Serendipity
by Jobey
Summary: In 1993-94, the Godric Hollow Gang's old hideout, Serendipity, received three visits from the former Marauders. Sirius, Remus, and Peter deal with many emotions as The Truth is revealed, they take their stands and start a new phase of life. *COMPLETE**
1. Sirius's Return (1)

***Dedicated to Lavander Ice, for constant encourgement, and to Jay, Harvey, and Keith of my original short story for "playing" with Peter when he grew too frustrating. SILVERWARE TARNISH ALL THE WAY!! :-) Also dedicated to each and every reviewer. I admit I cursed you all into the third heavens for liking this and making me feel obliged to finish it. In the end, I now thank you for it. The ending was influenced by all of you, you wonderful lovely darlings. *smiling painfully*  
  
Enough blabbing. I have a terrible habit of blabbing.   
  
Disclaimer: The story that follows is built on situations based on characters, settings, and other literary elements created and owned by Ms. J.K. Rowling, her publisher and copyright holders. No Knuts or dollars or pounds is being made of this piece of fanfiction. It cannot be printed and/or for anything but strictly private entertainment purposes. This disclaimer applies to all chapters hereforth.  
  
Serendipity  
  
**_"Hold on to sixteen as long as you can,  
Changes coming 'round real soon 'cause we're women and men."  
(John "Cougar" Mellencamp, "Jack and Diane")****_  
  
Chapter 1 - Sirius's Return  


  
It was a dark night, and he lived up to his nickname by walking without a sound. Even the sharpest of eyes might not have noticed a large black dog making his way through Godric's Hollow the night of July 28th, 1993.   
  
That suited Sirius Black just fine. As of the moment, for the first time in his life he most certainly did not want to be noticed.  
  
But the dog whimpered slightly in pain as his feet hit the ground again. He had been racing towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry nonstop and constantly, and his stomach was growling in hunger and his feet were blistered and bleeding.  
  
He was going to stop at a certain place for an hour or two - but no longer; he couldn't, couldn't, couldn't let Peter get to Hogwarts first. He had to be at the school the same day as Peter. Sirius wasn't quite sure how to stop Peter other than eating him, as he had so many other rats, but it was incredibly important for the one of two people in the whole world who knew the truth to be there. Goodness knew that Peter's knowledge of the truth didn't count for much.  
  
_How had Peter gone so badly astray?_ Sirius wondered. For the first time in years he was beginning to think sensibly and coherently - even after he had gotten out of Azkaban, he had been half-insane. All he could think of was James, Lily, and Harry. Now other thoughts were occurring to him.  
  
Perhaps it had something to do with where he was going. He was going to Serendipity. It was the house of the "Godric Hollow Gang" was the handle given to a young group of men and women who had settled in Godric's Hollow or in it - Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, Linda Fairchild, Remus Lupin, Morwin Hagley… and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius hated to admit it - but Peter had been one of them! They had trusted him, all seven of them and Samantha Orr and Annie Potter!   
  
Sirius knew very well Peter had never been as gifted as the others. Lily, James, and Sirius were known as the brightest students at Hogwarts in all of that generation and as very talented, magically. Bella had been just as clever before being subjected to Bendall's Curse in her fourth year, and even afterwards had been strong enough to fight the curse well enough to be able to live a semi-normal life as long as the Dark Side was in power. Linda and Remus weren't known as child prodigies, but, ask Sirius, they were no pushovers and very bright. And even the flippant, carefree Sammy had been just as bright and clever, even if most of their teachers didn't agree.  
  
But Peter… he hadn't been. Oh, he was excellent at Potions and even a decent flyer. Beyond that… Sirius remembered the countless nights they had spent helping Peter.  
  
_But we didn't mind, because we trusted him and he was one of us. We thought we were helping him. We probably only helped him with the smarts he needed to become a Death Eater.   
_  
Padfoot growled, and realized he had to change the subject of his thoughts from Peter. It was too upsetting. Sirius felt hot swoops of anger just as he thought the name.  
  
Linda was so right about him. She was the only one who saw right through him.   
  
Linda. Oh, Lin. Now, there was a thought that generally brought happiness. Sirius tried to push the scene where Linda and Remus had met with him briefly before he was sent to Azkaban out of his mind. He had relived Lin's words too many times over twelve years.  
  
And they still hurt as much as the day they were spoken.  
  
He tried to think of happy thoughts of Lin instead. There were many. But Azkaban seemed to have claimed them. So he thought of how Lin was doing now.  
  
_Harry's in good hands. Didn't we always call her 'Mother Linda'? Apart from James and Lily, Harry's in the best hands he could be_, Sirius thought, unaware that this was very wrong. He was fairly certain as of now that Harry was being raised by capable, loving Lin, now in his third - _oh, goodness, third_ - year of Hogwarts, nearing his thirteenth birthday. Birthday preparations - Sirius hated to think he had missed so much time in his godson's life, but he was comforted by thinking Harry was in the loving company of Lin and Rem and Bella and whatever friends he had picked up. Ricky Gondola and Mercy Mullen's children, perhaps, wouldn't that be something?   
  
I_ wonder how Lin's doing. And Moony. And Bella._ Linda Fairchild, while a capable Auror, was also a famous singer. Probably she had found a husband by now…  
  
*  
  
Sirius leaned back against the chair on his veranda comfortably while Lin laughed. The moonlight silhouetted her dark hair and made her blue-green eyes even brighter. _I can't believe they can call this woman plain. She's the most beautiful creature ever to walk the face of this earth. _  
  
There was a long, comfortable silence as both went through their thoughts. Sirius was supremely happy, and felt a little guilty for being so when Lily and James were in such danger. He was going to check in on Peter tonight, to see if he was all right - and to give him the good news.  
  
Oh, yes, good news. He had fallen in love with Linda Lou Fairchild, and was delighted to find that over the last few weeks her resistance to his advances had disappeared. He had been so worried before that she was serious in her barely-concealed affection for Remus, but that was gone. She probably found out. About time. Lin seemed as content as himself, and Sirius was ready. It was time for another pair of lovebirds in the Godric Hollow Gang.  
  
"Lin?" he said quietly, his voice more gentle than either of the two had ever heard it.  
  
Sirius saw Lin made a quick, startled movement but didn't see that she had paled. He could sense, however, that she had figured out from his voice exactly what was happening.  
  
"Lin, I love you. You know that."  
  
Lin's face was impassive, but there was a glint in them when she looked back. "I love you too, Si," she said slowly, apparently about to say more.  
  
Sirius waited a few seconds, but she didn't continue. He stood before her, reaching into his pocket in a very traditional present-the-ring-and-ask proposal. Whoever thought I would do it traditionally. Well, Lil and James did it the kinky way. Lin and I will do it ours. "Linda Lou Fairchild, will you marry me?"  
  
Lin's face was still impassive, and as seconds passed by Sirius became acutely aware something was wrong. Somehow, he hadn't quite imagined she would say no. It was part of his young, invincible feeling; no one ever said no to Sirius Black.  
  
"Sirius," she said suddenly, her voice choking. "I can't."  
  
"Why?" asked Sirius, rather stupidly.  
  
"I…I…" she turned away a moment. "Someone's a spy for Voldemort," she said, so lowly Sirius wasn't sure he heard right - but he had, and he knew it in his heart.  
_  
She thinks I'm the spy?  
_  
"Lin!" he burst out in high shock.  
  
"No, Si," she said, and she was beginning to cry. "I - I don't really think you're doing it! But - but someone is!"   
  
Sirius felt tears pricking his eyes, but he was suddenly angry.   
  
"And - you're the Secret-Keeper, and… you know what the Aurors are saying; Jay and I don't believe it - but!"  
  
Sirius almost told her about Peter right on the spot - but that was secret.  
  
"What if I proved to you I wasn't?" he asked in an expressionless tone.  
  
"Oh, don't!" cried Lin. "It's not just that, Si - I love you like a brother and I always have - but I don't love you like that!"  
  
Sirius felt as someone had punched him. Linda grabbed her cloak.  
  
"Lin? Don't go. I don't want you mad at me. Let's talk."  
  
"Sirius, I can't talk with you."  
  
Sirius felt really angry now. "Oh, but you will with Bella, I suppose? And you and Lily and James would be discussing this if you could? And you'll talk to Remus about anything?"  
  
An odd light shone in Linda's eyes. "I would never go brandying this about, Sirius! You know that very well!"  
  
"Go ahead," Sirius shot back. "Go, tell everyone. Find your counselor."  
  
"Si, I only even suspected you because you were so intent on suspecting Rem," Lin said steadily, a hint of ice in her voice, "and I won't tell the 'everyone', thank you."  
  
"Then who will you tell?" Sirius demanded, feeling as if his world had crashed.  
  
"I'm going to go talk to the only person who has ever understood me!" Linda cried, running from the veranda.  
  
Sirius stared at her, stupefied. He felt betrayed, somehow. He had never suspected… no female had ever refused him before… and so disappointed, he had loved Lin with all his heart and soul and everything there was to love… "He's not even a person!" he shouted at her angrily, forgetting every pact of secrecy he had made.  
  
But Lin had Disapparated.  
  
*  
  
_I can't believe I actually said that, Sirius thought in self-disgust. But that's how the whole thing started. I saw the whole time that Lin loved Rem, and it hurt. That's when I started thinking he was a Death Eater, just to console myself… and the theory grew on me, I guess. I started believing it in earnest.  
_  
And due to that stupidity, Sirius had been blind to Peter's doings and allowed Lily and James to die.  
  
_Idiot. Lin's right, you were the real traitor. You betrayed Lily and James by making Peter Secret-Keeper; you betrayed Remus for suspecting him and betrayed everyone else for making them believe it was him; you betrayed Harry, your godson, by orphaning him; you betrayed just about every person in all of Britain…  
  
You betrayed Rose by killing her before she even got a chance to live… _  
  
Padfoot's eyes started tearing again. Rose, Lily's unborn daughter. She had only been a month or so pregnant when they had both died. Sirius cursed himself again.  
  
_And, of course, right after Lin left you went to check on Peter, and found the little rat…_  
  
Sirius sighed. Everything came back to Peter, didn't it? Peter had it worked out quite cleverly. Peter was the one who had got everyone to suspect everyone else; it worked quite nicely, didn't it?  
  
Linda had already suspected Peter since the day they first met, so Peter quite cleverly got Sirius to suspect Remus. And you were such a prat you made it easy. In turn, Peter knew that Lin would be so angry that her Rem was suspected that she, of course, would suspect Sirius. Meanwhile, Bella, who had quite obviously been smitten with Sirius, would refuse to believe he was the spy and in turn suspect Linda. Lily would never believe her best friend was the spy and therefore keep on eye on Bella.   
  
James, of course, was so trusting of everyone that he suspected nobody until the last few days. But Peter had known Sirius would have enough influence on his "other half" that James, while he refused to suspect Remus, at least thought about it enough that Peter was safe from James's suspicion. Remus, naturally, began to get very suspicious of Sirius, but Peter knew that no one would take Remus's word for it even if he did discover what Peter was going, so Peter didn't have to bother manipulating him all that much.  
  
_And the seven of us, the best and brightest, bought it hook, lock, and sinker._  
  
Trying to stop thinking of Peter again, Sirius concentrated on Remus. It was easy to predict what Lin and Bella were doing. It was harder to guess at Remus's whereabouts.   
  
_It had to get easier on him after Voldemort left; he didn't have to wear that stupid ID-Pin anymore. No one could tell just by glancing at him anymore. And he has Bella and Lin helping him, I suppose. I think. I hope. I really hope, 'cause if he's starving somewhere it's my fault. Again. And again. It's always been my fault. But he can do it, I know he can._  
  
*  
It was the summer before their third year, and Sirius was very, very anxious. For one, he thought he would die if he went too much longer without seeing James, his "brother", and without starting another school year of laughing, troublemaking, fighting, and just plain being with Remus, Peter, Linda, Lily, Sammy, and Bella. Another year of talking with all of them and Mercy, Nicholas, Ricky, Livvy, the Sage twins, Gus, Carl… everyone. Even going back to getting into wars with Snape, Avery, and Wilkes. It was worth it.  
  
For two, he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron with Mother, Elsie, and Father.  
  
Sirius prayed that his father would not meet up with any of his friends. He wouldn't soon forget last Christmas. He knew he was a horrible disappointment to Arisuis Black, and his choice in friends was no better. A hated Potter, a disgraceful Fairchild, a disgraceful Stillman-Orr, two Mudbloods, and a werewolf. Yeah, a pretty choicy group. Father hadn't any real protests about Peter, luckily, and it was an ironic fact that would haunt Sirius for years to come.   
  
Sirius had seen James and Remus at the Leaky Cauldron but chose to avoid them, as he was right by his father's side. Now, however, he had free reign but no sight of them or anyone else. He sighed in exasperation. Downright depressing. He checked out the Alley's joke shop, figuring that was a natural spot for most of them, but no luck.  
  
It was near Malkim's Robes that he found Peter and his overprotective Muggle mother. Shaking Mrs. Pettigrew off, the two of them talked their tongues off trying to catch up on almost two months of not being together constantly. Peter, apparently, had been on vacation in the States, and Sirius was eager to hear of it. America was another of the many things Father didn't like, and it seemed as if the more Arisuis Black hated a thing the more his son clung to it.   
  
"Where're the others?" asked Sirius at last. As much as he liked Peter, the sooner there was more company, the better. Sirius, by nature, was not a patient person and his other friends kept him captivated far longer.  
  
"I saw Linda, but, er," Peter began. Sirius knew what he meant. Linda had never really liked Peter. "She was with a brown-haired woman. Is that her aunt?"  
  
"We'll have to ask," replied Sirius. "And - finally! Jay, Rem!"  
  
James and Remus, who had apparently just gotten into the Alley from the looks of the direction they had been walking in, bounded over excitedly. Everyone carefully avoided the subject of their brief glimpses of each other in the Leaky Cauldron and instead focused on catching up, and, more importantly, planning.  
  
Sirius had been about to mention the news he had heard about the Orrs when he glanced at Remus and stopped in surprise.  
  
"Sirius?" James called.  
  
"Rem, what happened?" demanded Sirius.  
  
Sirius saw Remus's eyes widen an instant before shaking his head. "Nothing."  
  
"Nice try. What happened to your face?"  
  
Peter examined the right side of Remus's face as well. Sirius was used to seeing his friend scarred from clawing at himself during transformations, but this wasn't the work of a wolf. A nasty bruise, although faint, circled around Remus's eye and a nearly healed gash came from the bridge of his nose to his jaw. Worse was a shiny burn that covered his entire cheek. He was also moving his left arm awkwardly.  
  
"Transformation," Remus replied lightly.  
  
"Yeah. You burned yourself, I'm sure."  
  
"Rem, you promised you'd talk about it," said James.  
  
"I will," Remus answered, looking uncomfortable, "just not here, okay?"  
  
Sirius took his wrist and dragged all three of them into a dark, deserted space between two shops. "Here," he said sternly. "What happened?"  
  
"Sirius," scolded James.  
  
Sirius's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that Remus had turned his face away from him.  
  
"Come on, Rem. We're your friends. And if you think anything that happened will change that, you're dead wrong."  
  
"Fridany. It was where Mum and I were living. The villagers found out about me - Mum was too weak to use Muting Charms and they heard me. The next afternoon they burst into the house and ordered us out."  
  
"With torches?" Sirius demanded pointedly.  
  
"Yes, they did have torches. One of them accidentally burned me."  
  
"Your arm?"  
  
"It got broken in the struggle. I don't think we healed it properly."  
  
"And the bruises and cuts?"  
  
Remus paused. "They beat us."  
  
Sirius had stared at his gentle, quiet friend with barely concealed horror. It didn't make sense at all to Sirius.  
  
*  
  
_And if they did that to a twelve-year-old, they probably wouldn't hesitate to do it to an adult_, Sirius thought wearily, trying to ignore the pain in his paws. That had been the first of many times Sirius had witnessed the prejudice, and it never failed to make him furious. He and James would be downright livid, while Remus tried to calm them down and pleaded with them to forget about it.  
  
"Let it go," he would mumble miserably when Sirius and James had been ready to break all underage wizardry laws while in Diagon Alley in their seventh-year by hexing a clerk who had taken one look at Rem's ID-Pin and started dropping very hurtful remarks. "I'd rather not make the trouble."  
  
"You shouldn't let them say that to you, Remus!" James would reply. James, thought Sirius. He saw injustice and wouldn't rest until it was fixed.  
  
"Great idea," Remus had replied dully. That was the summer of our seventh year. We were all a bit depressed and melancholy. "We'll have them arrested, shall we? James, who d'you think's going to listen? And think of it this way, they'll never change their opinion to me if I'm rude straight back."  
  
Thinking of it, Sirius realized he was getting nearly as angry as when he thought of Peter and decided to change the subject again.  
  
_I wonder how Morwin's doing. Did Freddy Figg marry her? She might even be dead; the curse might have killed her. She's certainly pretty ill right now, although, knowing her, she might be able to think coherently, which, come to think of it, was more than I could say the past twelve years. Of course, it's my fault she's like that, anyway…  
  
_*  
  
It was the Exhibition. Sirius was about as excited as he had been in his life. Was it really the Exhibition? It seemed impossible that he, Sirius Black, along with James, Morwin, and Lily, had been chosen.   
  
The Exhibition was a special event for older Hogwarts students, usually for fifth, sixth, and seventh years, reserved for times when the Dark Side was in power. It was a day of tips and strategies on dueling for the selected students from some pretty important witches and wizards, but most important, it was The Duels, when each student got paired off with an excellent and usually well-known adult witch or wizard. The students generally always lost, but it was exciting just the same.  
  
Just to heighten Sirius's opinion of himself, there was also the small fact that six fourth-years had been chosen at all. But he, James, Lily, and Morwin were already known for their very above-average marks, Severus Snape was rumored to be excellent with curses, and the sponsors of the event felt that the well-known students were needed and convinced Dumbledore to chose six fourth-years as well. The six were Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Morgana Hagley, Mercy Mullen - a very pretty and very clever Ravenclaw friend of theirs -, James Potter, and, (unfortunately, Sirius's eyes), Severus Snape.  
  
"Er, just so everyone knows, I'm scared to death," announced Morwin cheerfully.  
  
James, Lily, Sirius, and Mercy laughed at her calmness at the fact. Morwin, in fact, was generally a nervous and fidgety person.  
  
"If it makes you feel better, I am, too. I think I might die along with you," Lily suggested.  
  
"I'll do it as well," volunteered James. "And if we could somehow kill Rem off, Trelawney would have made a correct prediction for once!"  
  
Sirius snickered. Sibyll Trelawney, unfortunately, was a frequent visitor at Black Manor. "Yeah, that'll happen. And I'll end up in Azkaban, just like Zambia's always predicting. Oh, sorry, she doesn't teach Divination, does she?"  
  
"I wasn't even aware she taught," joked Mercy.  
  
Everyone laughed again; Professor Grace Zambia wasn't popular at all with students or staff. "That's not really fair, you know," Morwin put in hesitantly. "She's really a decent teacher; it isn't her job to be nice. And Mercy, she's Head of your House! You of all people shouldn't be talking of her!"  
  
"That doesn't make her any better. 'Fact, makes her worse, 'cause I've got to put up with her more," grinned Mercy.  
  
Sirius grinned back - my, but was Mercy calming on the nerves? He was just wishing Lin had been here to calm him down, but looking at the pretty Ravenclaw fourth-year next to him made his longing for his serene friend lessen.  
  
Sirius knew exactly what Linda, Remus, Peter, and Sammy were doing right now. They had taken over one of the dorms and were sprawled on the floor, talking and pretending to argue about pointless subjects. Lin, at some point, would remind them of Bella's suggestion to get some homework done while "Blotter" was away. No one would listen. Then Lin would order them to get some work done. Remus, to humor her, would start writing something and finish perhaps a paragraph of an essay. Peter would be pretending to work while really doing a crossword puzzle or playing chess with their roommate, Mundungus Fletcher. Sammy would be ignoring the order completely and would be reading a novel or painting her nails. Linda and Peter would soon get into a real fight, and then Sammy would pitch in. Remus would take the opportunity to put away his Transfiguration or Arthimancy away and suddenly suggest some wonderful prank that would a) distract Lin from Peter and b) would cause Sirius to be extremely jealous and/or angry when he came back and heard what he had missed and c) would become a running joke for about three years.  
  
Sirius smiled. Perhaps he knew his friends too well. That was, if he said so himself, a pretty accurate picture.   
  
He scanned the stands of the large room. Father was there; Sirius shrank back. He spotted the Potters and waved happily. He then looked for Lola, Remus's mother. Sirius had written Lola the second he learned he was going to the Exhibition and Lola, who was like a second mother to him, had promised to be there if possible.   
_  
All the parents here are important Ministry officials. I bet they looked at Lola pretty askance. Snobs. _  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you The Duels!" came a sudden magnified voice.  
  
"This round is between Hogwarts Student Representatives, Fourth-Years - Sirius Black, Lillian Evans, Linda Fairchild, Morgana Hagley, Mercy Mullen, James Potter, and Severus Snape!"  
  
James, who loved being the center of attention, was in his element, blowing kisses to the applauding crowd. Lily, on the other hand, looked pale, and Bella looked downright ill.  
  
"Didn't know Davey Gudgeon was commentating. 'Morgana'?" teased Sirius.  
  
Morwin had enough spirit left to say: "Shut up, Sirius."  
  
"They have all been numbered and will be referred to during the duels by their numbers," continued the commentator. "And now, their opponents - HR1 will be dueling Mr. Sagacious Kirk. HR2 will be dueling Mrs. Gloria Brent."  
  
Sirius eyes Mrs. Gloria Brent. Well, he had faced her niece and nephews plenty of times during Quidditch.  
  
"HR3 will be dueling Mr. Alastor Moody."  
  
"All right!" whispered Sirius joyfully. "Snape doesn't stand a chance!"  
  
"HR4 will be dueling Mr. Edward Dayton."  
  
Mercy smiled hesitantly. It was better than Moody.  
  
"HR5 will be dueling Miss Freda Williams."  
  
"Piece of cake," James smiled confidentially.  
  
"And HR6 will be dueling Miss Ginifer Cato."  
  
"Ginifer Cato!" gasped Morwin in horror. "Oh, no, I can't!"  
  
"Sure you can, Morwin, you're good enough," said James bracingly.  
  
"Not the best witch in all of France!"  
  
"Oh, Morwin, you're so lucky! I'd die for that chance!" said Lily excitedly.  
  
"Switch numbers," Sirius suggested, nodding to the wooden numbers on a chain around their necks. "Morwin, you'll get Kirk. He's easy."  
  
"I don't break rules like you, Si," Morwin shot back uneasily.  
  
Sirius yawned. "Sure. Then forget nice, easy Kirk and instead face Gin Cato, only the most talented witch in Europe -"  
  
"Let's switch!" Morwin amended quickly. Lily, grinning happily, did so, just in time, as the doubles were being called. Jennifer Cato's double was a Patricia Millry, the commentator announced at that moment.  
  
"Kirk's double is a Darcius Millry," Lily pointed to a girl only several years older than herself, in the late teens, near Sagacious Kirk. "Any relation?"  
  
Sirius shrugged.  
  
"And now I present Hogwarts Representative Number One!" said the commentator happily. Sirius winked at Morwin and everyone but Snape whispered good lucks and you'll-do-its.   
  
"And the opponent, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Sagacious Kirk!" roared the commentator.  
  
"And remember, all, this is not a life or death battle. When one witch or wizard is unable to send another spell, the duel is over. HR1 and Mr. Kirk bow… and begin!"  
  
For one brief moment, everything looked to be going fine. Morwin sent a Stunner, which Kirk blocked, and then Kirk sent a hex that Morwin deflected skillfully.  
  
Then everything happened at once.  
  
Kirk roared a spell, and Sirius could tell from the dark sparks shooting out of it that it was not a good curse. There was a collective gasp, and Morwin screamed.  
  
"Now, that's a forbidden spell!" was the last word of commentating heard.  
  
Darcius Millry, the young witch who was Kirk's double, leapt to her feet. "We should have known!" she shouted shrilly, and then sent six spells in rapid succession to Kirk. He deflected most and avoided one, and suddenly shouted "_Avada Kederva_ - you meddlesome girl, you nearly ruined it!"  
  
Morwin appeared frozen, standing before Kirk. There were suddenly spells and curses being thrown at Kirk from teachers and observers. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years behind Sirius were talking excitedly and worriedly.  
  
"Stay where you are!" ordered Professor McGonagall, drawing her wand. All the adults were trying to pin Kirk, but in the confusion Sirius couldn't see.  
  
Morwin suddenly collapsed and fell to the floor. Sirius stared at her numbly for a moment before he noticed that James was dodging spells and running to the floor to collect their friend before she was injured. Coming to his senses, Sirius ran after him and helped James lift the unconscious Morwin.   
  
"He's working for You-Know-Who!"  
  
"The girl!"  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
"McGonagall, don't, you fool!"  
  
"Darcius! No, oh no!"  
  
"What was that he just used?"  
  
"Patty - !"  
  
"She's got him!"  
  
"What was that he used before he fell?"  
  
"That was Kapykoae!"  
  
"Here, Gloria was hit with Crutaoius…"  
  
"There must be more ready to strike!"  
  
It was a panic; Sirius's mind only registered some of the voices and shouts he heard. James was leading the way to a hallway, which was empty and quiet compared to the panicked hall. Sirius's arms were beginning to hurt; Morwin wasn't fat but she was awfully heavy. _Where's a wolf's strength when you need it?_  
  
Sirius felt as if he were passing out and barely noticed when James led him and Lily into a small side closet. James knocked off all the cleaning supplies off a small table -_ looks like Father when he's having a fit…_ -- and he and Sirius managed to lift Morwin onto it.  
  
"Is she - dead?" Lily asked softly, her green eyes moist.  
  
"No," gasped James. "No, but… but… where's Lola and her Refrudula magic when you need it?"  
  
Sirius slumped to the floor. He had been hit with something; there was no other reason he was falling apart like this.  
  
"If Lin or Rem were here…" he mumbled.  
  
"They're not," James reminded him.  
  
"Lily is," Sirius said. "She can do it very well." His words sounded slow and sluggish.  
  
"I know," said Lily. "Listen, you've got to trust me - can you give me your hands, please? I've got to do a Life's Circle."  
  
"A what!" exclaimed James.  
  
"Lily, you can't!" cried Sirius. "Even Lola can't do that properly! And if you do it wrong, you'll d -"  
  
Lily turned to him sharply, emerald eyes intense. "Listen, this is my fault. I switched numbers with Morwin. That curse - it was meant for me, don't you see? They thought Morwin was Lily Evans, and they tried to kill her. Kirk was a death agent for Voldemort; he'd do anything even if it meant he would die. But if Morwin dies, it's my fault. I've got to do anything I can."  
  
Sirius was shocked into pausing a moment, but then nodded. "Okay," he said weakly, offering his hand.  
  
Lily smiled at him. "Thank you. James?"  
  
Sirius expected to feel something as Lily drew from what little power he had left, but he didn't. If only Lola was here, and she could have been if it wasn't for those Ministry idiots…  
  
"I need calm thoughts, Siri," said Lily.  
  
Sirius concentrated on walking around the lake with Linda.  
  
"That's better."  
  
Sirius's eyes were closed a few moments, but when he opened them he saw Lily surrounded by beams of white light, her face scrunched up as she fought for control over the light, directing it to the unconscious auburn-haired girl on the table.  
  
And then Sirius passed out.  
  
*  
  
  
  
  



	2. Sirius's Return (2)

*  
_And, of course, that was Bendall's Curse. And it was my fault. I told her to switch numbers._ Lily had managed to do a real Life's Circle._ If Harry has half that determination, which he sure did twelve years ago when he wanted to go outside, he'll be just fine_, reflected Sirius, hurrying along.   
  
Bendall's Curse caused Morwin to become dim-minded and slow, a ghost of the incredibly clever and smart girl of before. Morwin fell to the bottom of her classes, and her sense of sarcastic humor that was need if you were talking with Sirius, James, Remus, Peter, Lily, Sammy, and Linda died away nearly completely.  
  
However, her mind recovered for the periods of time surrounding Dark Activity. It was like an alarm clock. If she made a clever retort one day, they would hear of a mass Muggle killing the next. If she did her Astronomy homework without help one night, the next you would hear that Death Eaters unleashed a dozen cases of Kapykoae. It was a really awful feeling when you felt worried when your friend performed a semi-complicated charm without problems. And that was part of the curse's power, to break the wills of the victim's friends.  
  
Of course, Morwin had no ordinary friends.  
  
Sirius knew that without the Dark Side in power, Morwin would be very ill and probably would no longer be Cornelius Fudge's secretary - no real tragedy, and, come to think of it, Fudge was Minister of Magic now.  
_  
Pathetic. And we all thought Robert Pearce was incompetent.  
  
_Sirius quickened his pace in spite of the searing pain in his paws. He was almost to Serendipity; he recognized the houses around him. Just a little longer… there would be light, too, Sirius hated darkness now; light and perhaps even food…  
  
After Hogwarts, Sirius, James, Linda, Lily, Remus, Morwin, and Peter had sworn to remain friends, in spite of everything and anything. And so they had, and Serendipity had ensured that. Sirius, James, and Morwin, who had large inherited fortunes, found a house everyone liked in a more Muggle-populated area of Godric's Hollow. It was at the very end of everything, large enough for all of them to visit at once and not be squashed and small enough to be home-like.  
  
None of them had ever lived in Serendipity. Not when Morwin could barely keep a house because of her impaired mind, not when Peter found a short-lived job right in Godric's Hollow, not when Lily and James got married and were certain their house would be in Godric's Hollow, not when Remus couldn't find any work and was living in a earthen-floored cabin on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. No one lived there. But it was their getaway, their sanctuary, and their grown-up version of a clubhouse.  
  
Sirius sighed in satisfaction when he found that his memories of working on Serendipity with everyone were still intact. Those were safe. Oh, he loved that place. He especially came there on nights after he had been forced to attend some social function of his father's. Leave some mansion with a sigh of relief and smile happily as you got to a two-story house on the edge of Godric's Hollow.  
  
Sirius loved being contrary.  
  
_Lin and Rem have been taking care of it, right? Of course they have. I bet Lin still brings Harry here all the time. But… what if they don't? I mean, it must be pretty painful. I know Morwin probably can't even leave her house, and then James and Lily are dead, to them, Peter's dead, and they think I'm a murderer. It might hold too many memories for them._  
  
_But they're strong, they really are. And you know them and their ideas of responsibility. Of all of us, they were strongest._ The generally quite Lin and Rem were fascinating to Sirius. With Lily and James, everything was clean-cut and on paper. James had two traits that defined him - his need to be the center of attention and his need to fix anything and everything he deemed "unfair". Lily was brave, clever, and temperamental, and both were generous and kind. It was very clear, and it was what endeared them to everyone.  
  
Linda and Remus were different. Most people found them quiet, patient, unnoticeable and capable of doing whatever needed to be done. When you bothered to find out about them, they excluded more of a sense of good-temperedness, light sarcasm, cleverness, and resourcefulness. They made excellent friends, being willing to share attention and sympathy, and having varied interests and hobbies and always up for an adventure of sorts as long as no one was going to be jailed for it. They had their sparks of mischief, even if Lin did everything possible to hide hers. They could be talkative and quiet by turns, and you knew almost instantly that they were trustworthy. Sirius, used to being flamboyant, was rather taken aback when he discovered he liked their mildness.   
  
But when you got to know them even better, you found their sadness. Sirius had noticed this instantly, but never understood it for a while. It was a full school year before Sirius found even half of what weighed upon Rem, and longer before he found half of what bothered Lin. They were private and closed-in, and sometimes it bothered Sirius, who liked to be on-the-table close. It had nearly driven him insane in their first-year when Remus would suddenly leave - not his several day long absences, but when everyone was together and getting along fine, and suddenly he would get up and … go. It had taken a while for him to confide that sometimes the darkness - the wolf - inside him got to the point of unmanageability, and that was Remus's cue to go off privately and let it pass over. It still bothered Sirius. Lin's sudden private spells bothered him even more, especially after he knew why Remus sometimes closed himself up in a room. He never really understood Linda for the longest of times, and even when he did get an explanation, it bothered him.  
  
But as James pointed out, a lot of things bothered Sirius.  
  
Sirius almost let out a howl of relief - Serendipity! Home, he thought happily, racing to the small white house - home!  
  
He stopped. The wards. Had they been taken down? If not, had Lin and Rem made sure they would no longer admit him? They were both cautious about things like that.   
  
He took a deep breath and tried - and got in without a problem. His dog senses could tell the wards were up, but still recognized them.  
  
_Odd. I thought for sure… perhaps Rem didn't tell Lin about the Animagi._ Sirius knew that Linda knew about Remus's being a werewolf, because when he had faced them before his Azkaban imprisonment Rem had been wearing his ID-Pin and Lin didn't look a bit nonplussed about it. But would she know about the Animagi? Sirius hoped she did. Surely if she knew, she might figure out Peter was alive. If anyone could do it, it was Linda Fairchild. And Linda needed to - she had Harry!  
  
The doors recognized him and opened to admit him. Sirius smiled. The wards recognized ten people - the "Godric Hollow Gang", Annie Potter - James's younger sister, Harry Potter, Harry Eastman, and Albus Dumbledore, for obvious reasons, as they all did "errands" for their former Headmaster at some point or another. But no one else. Privacy. And the doors only opened for the Godric Hollow Gang.   
  
Sirius scowled. Peter could enter this sacred place freely. The thought nearly killed him.  
  
Then Sirius remembered joyfully that he could transform. It had been a while since he was able to be human. Checking quickly to ensure the curtains were indeed up, Padfoot became Sirius.  
  
He sighed in relief.  
  
He then noted that he was absolutely filthy. He remembered that Lily had become quite the housewife after her marriage, and he imagine her face if she could see him inside Serendipity looking like this.  
  
_Imagine her face? She'd be horrified. You killed her, Sirius Black, you killed her! You killed her and her husband and unborn daughter and orphaned her son! _Sirius broke down. He collapsed in a heap on the kitchen floor and sobbed. It was several minutes before the grief released some of its hold on him and he was able to stand, still crying freely.  
  
_I am filthy. In more ways than one, of course, but Lin and Rem'll be really suspicious if they come in here and it's all messed up. Then they'll know I've been here. Black, you idiot, they're probably watching this house, thinking you'll come back!_  
  
He didn't care. No one but Lin, Rem, Harry, or Peter could get in, and if it was Lin or Rem he might get a chance to explain himself.  
  
If it was Peter, he was going to kill the bastard.  
  
He yearned for a shower, and decided that he would do just that before he left. First, however, he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. The water was still running. It had been in James's will, for all the bills to be paid for Serendipity forevermore. And that, luckily, meant running water.  
  
_You bastard, using James's doings for you. You killed him; you killed him. Or had you forgotten?_  
  
It was, however, probably very good for Lin and Rem. Neither had much money - although now that Linda was free to pursue her singing career that might change at least for one of them. But she also had to support Harry, and if Remus was paying the bills for this house he also had to live here.  
  
And Sirius could tell instantly no one was living here. There was a thick, thick layer of dust, and his heart sank. _They haven't been coming back. Has Harry ever really seen this? Not in this state, I hope.   
_  
Sirius paused a moment, wondering if that old transistor radio they had spelled to pick up the WWN was still in the house.  
  
It was, on the kitchen countertop. Sirius turned it on and was amazed to feel the happiness he felt, just listening to a commercial about the latest broomstick model, a Firebolt._ Just like a normal person. I wonder if this is what Lin and Rem felt like, going to Hogwarts like everyone else when they didn't think they could. It's an amazing feeling, feeling normal._ He felt almost light-headed and wasn't sure he wanted to read the Prophets.  
  
_I wonder if there's a shred of food in the house…_  
  
A quick search revealed none. So no one was visiting Serendipity regularly. It surprised him. He at least imagined…  
  
"And now, back from a commercial break, we're back to the Stars That Never Got the Chance Hour! We have some Fredrick Henley coming up for you, and some old Star-lighters tunes, right after our next song: 'Restless', sung by young Linda Fairchild!"  
  
Sirius almost died on the spot. "Restless" was Linda's second recording. She had released four when Sirius was sent to Azkaban, how many had she released since then? But… "Stars That Never Got The Chance Hour"? Those were for promising young talents that were cheated by recording companies, or died, or quit. So Lin wasn't singing anymore?  
  
  
_Restless  
So restless I've worn through the floor  
Restless  
So restless I can't take no more  
Since when did life get so complicated?  
I can't barely remember the time I was so busy in my head…  
So I grab the powder and Floo over to you, my love…  
'Cause despite all nothing else compares…  
Talking with my friends and saying 'D'you remember?' -  
Falling right off the chairs…_  
  
  
Hearing Linda's voice, the same it had been twelve years ago, did nothing to help Sirius stem his tears. He could even hear Lily's voice giving backup singing and his own percussion work. The song ended with a "killer" guitar solo, leaving Sirius feeling very emotional. Wonder where she is now…  
  
"Yes, friends," said the wireless, "that was the work of Linda Fairchild. She was a great talent with a bright future, of course, she was also a brave Auror as well and the music world was shocked to hear that she died the third of November, 198i, just when You-Know-Who was defeated and her fans thought she was safe. Next: 'The Hen's one-time hit: 'Broken Wand', released in…"  
  
Sirius stood rigid to the spot.   
  
He thought he didn't have any tears left.  
  
But he sure did.  
  
_Lin? Died? Just three days after Lily and James? She wasn't alive? Doing Auror work?_  
  
Sirius sobbed, letting grief wash over him, but not before slamming the transistor radio off. He was in no mood to hear "The Hen".  
_  
Lin… Lin, I'm sorry… Lin! _  
  
His crying voice seemed to echo in his head, pounding, and he just wanted the grief, which was more than any physical pain he had ever felt, to end when suddenly he snapped up. Where's Harry? He's with Rem and Morwin, right? Or would even Dumbledore let them?  
  
Sirius felt helpless for a moment before noticing a pile of Daily Prophets on the kitchen table. He glanced at the topmost one.  
_  
15, November 1981…  
_  
Sirius felt as if he were in a time warp. He ruffled through the pile. The one from 15 November was the most recent.  
  
_I suppose Remus couldn't stand reading all this any more than I could have. I don't even want to read it right now, but I've got to know…_  
  
Sirius paused. Were Remus and Morwin even alive?  
  
_I've got to believe they are; otherwise Harry has no one in the world except for an Azkaban escapee._  
  
He found the first one was 1 November 1981. "Reprint: Encore". Large headlines proclaimed the Downfall of Voldemort, the Boy Who Lived, and the death of Lily and James.  
  
Sirius skipped over it when he found it didn't have what he wanted and moved to the next one - a few days afterward. _Of course, d'you really think Rem has the money to buy this bundle of lies _daily_? _Then he found it: "Boy Who Lived Sent to Muggle Relatives".  
  
_Harry Potter, at age one, has already achieved more fame than most wizards gain in a lifetime. His name is already know throughout the wizarding community…_  
  
Sirius skipped the introduction to Harry and skimmed past the story of Halloween 1980 until he found what he was looking for.  
  
_The question now being asked is where the young boy will be living. Harry's godfather is also Death Eater Sirius Black, whom James Potter so foolishly trusted…_  
  
Sirius tried not to cry; he needed proper vision to read…  
  
_… and who is now being held in the Fortress of Azkaban, a very unsuitable paternal figure…_  
  
Sirius felt like he was being tortured. Each few words seemed to be like a stab in his chest.  
_  
… and whom naturally could never foster young Potter…_  
  
The curse words Sirius learned in Azkaban helped him greatly.  
_  
Harry Potter's godmother is the late Linda Fairchild…_  
  
Did this person write the article _intending_ to hurt him?! Is this was Rem must have felt like during Defence lessons on werewolves, and Lily and Morwin when we were at that lecture on Muggle-wizard relationships?  
  
_… Auror and singer, but whom in death cannot care for the young boy, naturally._  
  
What a stupid thing to say! Very clever, genius.   
_  
Several offers to care for the child have arisen. Harry Eastman, a Muggle friend of the late Mrs. Potter's, reported that he would take his namesake in if need be. The Mr. and Mrs. Richard Gondola, old school friends of the Potters, have also said they will do the same if worst came to worst._  
_  
The most startling claim came from two more of the Potters' friends, Morgana Hagley and Remus Lupin. While true that they were indeed close friends of the Potters and were, indeed, rumored to have been named godparents of Lily Potter's unborn child, there is also the not to be overlooked fact that the former is a mind-paralyzed victim of Bendall's Curse…_  
  
"Not mind-paralyzing, you idiot reporter!" Sirius fumed out loud.  
  
_… from the age of fourteen, and the latter is a werewolf, WR16830. Needless to say these would not be prime candidates for the parent figures…_  
  
"Bella and Rem wouldn't try to replace Lily and James as parental figures, but I guess a cold-hearted pig like you wouldn't understand that," scowled Sirius, "and I'd much rather see my godson in their hands than your lie-writing ones…"  
_  
… as the violet tendencies…_  
  
"Morwin and Rem? I doubt it." Sirius's hands were shaking.  
  
_…would not create the environment any child, let alone Harry Potter, should be subject to._  
  
"Oh, so now Harry Potter can only live in the best and finest? Well, yes, but because he's Harry, not because he's the Boy Who Lived," scowled Sirius.  
  
_Albus Dumbledore, close advisor to the Potters, has taken over responsibility for their estate. When asked, he replied: "You must also take into question the child's safety, not just the parents' wants…", namely, that the safety of Harry Potter goes before the wishes of the late Potters, and this Daily Prophet correspondent agrees. While perhaps the Potters might want their child to go to an old friend, you must also take into account the fact that during their lifetime they have trusted Sirius Black, a Bendall's Cursee, and a werewolf, and therefore while their cleverness cannot be disputed, perhaps their choice in friends can, and also the fact that young Potter would not be particularly safe in the home of defencless Muggle Eastman or the household of Hagley and Lupin._  
_  
Dumbledore has already sent the boy to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley, a Muggle couple. Mrs. Dursley was Mrs. Potter's sister, and therefore young Potter will be protected by the blood protection of the home. While Hagley and Lupin are seriously disputing this, it looks as though they have little recourse. Linda Fairchild, in the last days of her life, proclaimed: "You can give my godson all the 'protection' he wants, but he needs the loving support of family and friends." We take that to mean that Miss Fairchild, as well, agrees that her godson would be best off with the Dursleys._  
  
"Lin did not mean that!" exploded Sirius, blood pounding in his ears. How could anyone twist words so cruelly? Linda had been very wrongfully quoted.   
  
_While some wizards have objections to Harry Potter's residence in Little Whinging, Surrey, 4 Privet Drive with Muggles, many are quite satisfied with this state of affairs…_  
  
Sirius threw the paper down. That was it! Harry, living with Petunia?  
  
*  
  
"Si! You finally made it!" called Lily happily, skipping across the green lawn of Mr. and Mrs. Tom Evans, Lily's aunt and uncle. She bounded up to him and gave him a quick hug. "Finally! I was waiting! How was your trip here?"  
  
"I love Muggle transportation," was all Sirius offered with an evil grin.  
  
Lily glanced at him sternly. "Siri, you do know that you are not allowed to fly that motorbike until you get your license next year, right?'  
  
"Lil! Are you accusing me of -"  
  
"You bet she is," cut in James, sauntering up behind them. "Hallo, Padfoot. Made it in one piece, I see."  
  
"He's too calm," Sirius whispered to Lily very loudly.  
  
"Lil's just worried about getting our O.W.L. results. I can't see why," shrugged James. "I look calm by comparison. Or maybe this lovely home has mellowed me."  
  
"You? You don't have a thing to worry about, Lil!" Sirius exclaimed.  
  
"Yes she does," James grinned. "Petunia and her friends. Lily did warn you that her sister was allowed to invite her Muggle friends over as well this summer, right?"  
  
"No Muggle-baiting," decreed Lily. "And they definitely can't find out about all this, got that?"  
  
"You're getting awfully pushy," Sirius smiled. In truth, he was glad. Lily had been far too pensive and sad ever since she her parents died recently, during their fifth year. James as well, although his grief was even more recent. However, they seem to be finding comfort in each other… Sirius hoped that Remus was recovering from Lola's death as nicely.   
  
"Why, thanks," said Lily brightly. "C'mon, it's dreadful hot. D'you want to go swimming?"  
  
"I must say, that suit you have on…"  
  
"Shut up and come on. You've got to meet Uncle Tom and Aunt Cynthie." She grabbed him by the wrist. Sirius glanced at the Muggle home in approval. It was large and spacious, with a huge front, back, and side lawn, all lush green grass. _Handy thing to have around if you've invited the Marauders over for the summer, of course, and Sammy Orr. Morwin's going to have her face in a book a good deal of the time, but we'll get her to play. Lil and Lin're going to play nearly as hard as the rest of us, though. Lil promised to teach us 'soccer'. Muggle game; I really love knowing that Father hates Muggle games. And, of course, I'm not at the Evans', I'm at the Pettigrews, remember._  
  
"Peter's going to be here tonight," Sirius remembered suddenly.  
  
Lily nodded in approval. "Good. You boys are all coming early - thank goodness, I can't stand Petunia much longer."  
  
"When's Rem going to be here?"  
  
"On Saturday. He has a lot of badgering and bargaining to do with that Ministry official," James replied, referring to Mr. Payne. Remus had just turned sixteen and therefore really could live in his old flat the same as ever without Lola as long as he paid the rent, but unbeknownst to Lily, the Ministry was not just going to let a teenaged werewolf watch out for himself. Payne's job was to make sure Remus was locked up during full moon - and generally make his life miserable until he could escape to the Evans', although Remus hadn't said it that way flat-out is his letters.  
  
"Mr. Payne…" said Lily slowly. "Underage wizards aren't really his department, are they?"  
  
Sirius and James exchanged glances. "You know that Ministry," Sirius rolled his eyes. "Heigh-ho! Is that Petunia?" he motioned to a short girl with brown hair.  
  
"No, that's… wait, er… Janet. She's one of Petunia's school friends. Petunia's…" Lily scanned the yard. "Inside." She led them through glass doors to the inside of the home, which, Sirius noted with an evil grin, had very many mirrors in it.  
  
"Why, you must be Sirius," said the warm voice of Cynthia Evans, Lily's aunt. She offered a flour-filled hand. "Very nice to meet you, indeed, even if Lily has said you're the 'wild one'."  
  
Sirius's eyes widened innocently. "Me? No. Mistakes of mine get exaggerated a bit, but generally I'm just your basic altar boy."  
  
James and Lily snickered.  
  
"I'm sure," Mrs. Evans humored him. "Lily, go get Sirius a towel if you're going swimming already." Lily scampered off quickly, and Mrs. Evans smiled at him and leaned closely: "Thank you very much for coming. I want my niece to be happy, and when she talked of her friends coming over, she really lit up. If there's anything you want, don't hesitate to ask. I consider you the one doing me a favor. And I don't know too much about magic at all, but Tom knows more of all it than I do, so you can talk to him. Okay?"  
  
"All righty," agreed Sirius.   
  
"Oh, and I heard that you can get a bit rowdy, especially when paired with James," she smiled. "I'm going to have a house of about fifteen children, humor me a bit, please?"  
  
Sirius sighed, trying to look miserable. "All right. What did James say to that?"  
  
James grinned. "I'm dating her niece; d'you think I said no?"  
  
"Oh, Jay said no, he just said it in more words than that," Lily laughed, bounding down the steps. "Here, Siri," she flung a blue towel at him. "You can get changed in there," she said unabashedly, pointing to the first room in the side hallway that went nowhere, "and we'll met with you out back in the wonderful pool of my relatives."  
  
"Lily! Stop making so much noise, you little freak!" called a shrill voice. Sirius cringed.  
  
"Oh, that's Petunia," said Lily casually, flinging her hair over her shoulders and looking completely undisturbed. Sirius noted she talked of Petunia the same was Remus and Morwin talked of their respective curses - nonchalantly, but with darkened eyes.  
  
_Well, I know what having a sister that's a curse is like, but somehow I reckon even Elsie isn't as bad as Petunia. _  
  
"You hear me, Lily?"  
  
"Yeah, Pet, whatever. Sirius and James and I are going outside; we won't even be in your way for a while!" Lily called back. "Oh, and Janet's outside, she looks a little lonely. Are you abandoning her?"  
  
"It's Jillian!" Petunia shrieked back. "And who on earth is Sirius?"  
  
"He's the noisy, crazy, wacko one I told you about!" Lily replied.  
  
"Girls, please don't shout," begged Mrs. Evans.  
  
"Sorry," said Lily.  
  
" 'Noisy, crazy, wacko one'? Lily, I'm charmed." Sirius pretended to be hurt.  
  
Lily giggled. "Siri, I did you a favor. I'm really afraid that she'll think you're the best-looking man she ever set eyes on and will fall madly in love, leaving you an innocent victim. C'mon."  
  
They had swum happily for a while, Sirius and James naturally more interested in cannonballs while Lily kept muttering: "Boys."  
  
"You sounded so delighted when you mention all of your male friends were coming early," Sirius pointed out wickedly.  
  
"I'll still be happiest when Linda and Sammy and Morwin get here, let me tell you."  
  
"I don't know; you and James didn't have that bad a time, did you?"  
  
Lily pretended to whack him over the head with a rubber water toy when all the sudden they heard loud crying.  
  
They exchanged a three-way glance, nodded instantly, and hopped over the fence that surrounded the pool and ran to the sound of the cries.  
  
Petunia, a girl Sirius later learned was Macy and a boy called Terry were beating on a small cat. A small boy of about seven was watching with tears streaming down his face; the grey kitten that was shrieking in pain was obviously his pet.  
  
"Petunia Evans!" shouted Lily angrily. "Stop hurting that kitten!"  
  
"Oh, you would be fond of cats, wouldn't you?" retorted Petunia, continuing to poke the kitten in the face with a stick.  
  
"That's besides the point; you're being cruel!"  
  
"Your sister's no fun, Petunia," remarked Terry.  
  
"And don't I know it," Petunia glared.  
  
"You've some nerve, doing that!" Sirius fumed, bursting right into the circle the three kitten-torturers had formed and cooping up the cat. The cat swiped at him, naturally, but Sirius had spent the last few months wrestling a werewolf and getting into a fistfight with someone ten years older than himself, so the swipe was barely noted.   
  
James was livid and very nearly smacked Macy. As it was, when Terry advanced on him they got into a wonderful scuffle. James cuffed him in seconds. Lily was trying to help the kitten in Sirius's arms. After James had chased Petunia, Macy, and Terry out they handed the kitten to the boy.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered.  
  
"I'm really sorry about my sister, Gerry," Lily apologized. "She can be mean sometimes."  
  
"She's still your sister, though," Gerry pointed out.  
  
Lily sighed. "Yeah. I know."  
  
"There are good points about her?"  
  
Lily shrugged. "Probably."  
  
"You trust her?"  
  
"She just tried to kill a defenceless kitten. I don't trust her with anything; not my life and certainly not anyone else's."  
  
*  
  
That memory and the time Harry Eastman had ranted about his horrible cousins, the Dursleys, was plastered in Sirius's mind. Harry… there?  
  
No. Sirius had gotten too much bad news tonight. This was supposed to be a visit of healing. Instead, old wounds were being ripped open and new ones created.  
  
Sirius's first instinct was to run to Surrey - and he was going to do that.  
  
But first, he really needed a shower.  
  
  
  



	3. Sirius's Return (3)

Sirius carefully - trying not to come in contact with anything - made his way to the upstairs bathroom.  
  
The shower felt so wonderful. The feeling of being clean soared through Sirius. He would never take it for granted again. He noticed his old bathrobe, which was still in the bathroom cupboard, fit him very loosely. He had lost a lot of weight.  
  
He made his way to his bedrooms. The seven of them had slept over Saturday nights and had a nice Sunday morning together many a time, usually with Lily cooking. _The only one of us who knew decent cooking charms… _Everyone would pitch in on cleanup and catch up on their busy, active weeks… or worries… or weeks when they were agonizingly idle… or…  
  
_Think of the good parts, why don't you? _  
  
Sirius stared around his own room fondly. Right dead and center on the right side of the stairs and next to Linda's room - it was his. And he missed it, he missed the soft, comfy bed and fluffy pillows and windows that let in real sunlight and the wonderful view of the Hollow and all his possessions.   
  
However, his old robes and Muggle clothes were no longer there. Probably confiscated… his money was untouched, however… Remus thought him a traitor and wouldn't have taken that if it meant the difference between life and death, and obviously the Ministry hadn't found it too important, either… his old Muggle magazines for mechanics… Sirius shook his head, remembering what his father's reaction when Sirius had set up trade as a Muggle/wizard mechanic… his spare wand was gone, well that woul d be confiscated above all else… the pictures in his room - many of friends, several of family, and a good deal on sports, mostly Quidditch - remained, and Sirius paused for a moment to enjoy looking at them again. More memories came rushing back. Azkaban had not stolen everything.  
  
He smiled sadly, opening a drawer in his nightstand. The card he had already bought for Harry's second birthday was in there, untouched. He wished he could send it to him.  
  
Sirius abruptly left the room - if he looked at that bed and recliner once more he was going to fall asleep in them, and he wouldn't get up for days, and who knew but that Remus or Annie or even Morwin might decide to make their way here? - and hesitated a moment before going into Rem's, which was at the rightmost edge of the hall.   
  
It hadn't been used any more than the rest of the house, Sirius thought dejectedly. It was considerably barer than it had been even twelve years ago, and it wasn't as if it had been chockfull of belongings then. Rem had certainly packed up and left to go somewhere - where?   
  
Sirius unlatched the clasp on the drawer to the nightstand, wondering if by any chance Remus had kept it -  
  
It was still there.  
  
*  
  
"There just doesn't seem to be any cards to get a lovely couple on their second anniversary," grumbled Sirius. "Find anything, Moony?"  
  
"Yeah. There's a card for a couple's sixty-third anniversary; I'm serious. And don't give me the 'I'm Sirius' line; it's getting old. But really. How many people know a couple who're having a sixty-third anniversary?"  
  
"Not many, compared to how many people know a couple who're having a second anniversary," finished Sirius, nodding in agreement. "And, frankly, some of these I'd kill myself before I gave them to Lil and James. Honestly. Like the one joking about Entrancing Enchantments. Isn't that a bit…?"  
  
"And worse are the ones that get too goody-goody," summarized Remus.  
  
Sirius grinned, wondering how many people could have joint thoughts like this. "I should go to Diagon Alley and visit that Angie-woman who makes custom-cards."  
  
"Good idea, actually… Sirius? What is it?"  
  
Sirius grinned in delight. "This is what Lily and James are getting for their twentieth-anniversary." He handed the card over for his friend to read. It listed the Pros and Cons of Being Married As Long As You Two Have, complete with magically animatedly pictures that were sure to cause baby Harry to go into fits of laughter.  
  
Remus read it and grinned. "You're sending that. I want no credit for it, thank you."  
  
"Oh, but by that time I'll lose it!" Sirius realized. "Rem?"  
  
"Yes, Padfoot?"  
  
"Any chance you could keep that safe for me for about eighteen years?"  
  
Remus laughed. "Sure thing."  
  
"No, seriously. I'm buying it and want to send it to Jay and Lily for their twentieth anniversary. So swear to me, Marauder's honour."  
  
They went through the rite, and ended up leaving without buying anything for the Potters' second anniversary. They then had some serious goose-chasing to do the night before the anniversary when they remembered. It was the last time Padfoot and Moony went on a "satisfyingly dangerously and idiotic adventure" together without suspecting each other of dealings with the Dark Side.  
  
*  
  
Somehow, the fact that Remus had still kept that, even with Sirius being a murdering traitor and Lily and James dead made Sirius feel better - although he was still hungry.  
  
He resigned himself to putting on his old robes, even if they were over a decade old and filthy. _What's the difference…_ He scrounged the house in his bathrobe first, though, trying to see if there was still a wand. But, of course, Remus would never just leave a wand lying about in an unattended house. _Just my luck; anyone else might make that mistake in all the turmoil…_  
  
Everything and everything reminded Sirius of the Godric Hollow Gang of old. In the hallway was a long shelf of books. Morwin's. He was rather surprised they were still here, and concluded with another fit of tears that she must be dead as well. Nearly every one of her old books was still there, though. Good old Morwin.  
  
On a considerably smaller shelf was a whimsical arrangement of… dice. Sirius laughed to himself. Collecting dice had been a pastime of James and Remus's, for reasons best known to themselves. Sirius had once asked James about it.  
  
*  
  
"Prongs? James, are you messing with those bloody dice again?"  
  
"Just rearranging. If I don't spend time studying them I forget which ones we already have."  
  
"You and Rem are absolutely insane." Sirius stared at the collection. Some were standard. Some were small enough to fight comfortably on Sirius's smallest fingernail; one was so large many of the others were placed on it. Some were regular black-and-white; the rest were every imaginable colour of the rainbow and many that weren't. Some were more than six-sided and some were even round. Some featured letters or colors or symbols and Egyptian hieroglyphics instead of numbered dots.   
  
"Took you long enough to figure it out!" said James cheerfully.  
  
"So what's the point?"  
  
"Sirius, what on earth did we name this place?"  
  
"Serendipity."  
  
"Very good. One point from Gryffindor."  
  
"Are we out of the negatives Zambia put us in?"  
  
James laughed. "Do you remember why we named it 'Serendipity' when all the adults in our lives thought we were all absolutely raving mad?"  
  
"Dumbledore liked it. He said it reflected us."  
  
"Right. And what is it about us that we all take pride it?"  
  
"Being unique." _Very, very unique, thank you!_  
  
"Yep. And the dice collection is unique. Who else d'you know who collects dice?"  
  
"I don't know too many people as mad as you and Moony, though."  
  
"You're forgetting yourself."  
  
"I said 'many'."  
  
"I agree with Sirius," spoke up Lily suddenly. "Blotter" jumped; they hadn't noticed her listening. "I'm afraid to send Jay out to buy groceries; I know if he sees anything that resembles a die that he'll buy it without worrying about milk and bread. At least Rem is semi-rational about it; note I said 'semi'. Siri, thank you very much for not going in on that craze. Just for that, I won't poison your breakfast next Sunday."  
  
James pouted and pointed out his lower lip. "So you don't like the fact I'm unique and independent?"  
  
"Jay, love…" murmured Lily, before there was a loving embrace. Sirius had slipped out at this point to give them some privacy.   
  
*  
  
_They were so deeply in love. I almost envied them. Was happy for them beyond belief; no one deserved it more than them. But I was jealous, a bit. The same way everyone was, but we were thrilled for them as well._  
  
As if to prove the point, Sirius glanced over to Lily and James's room. It was right by the stairs on the left side. Originally it had been two separate rooms, but after a while they had simply taken down the wall and fixed that pretty easily. Sirius had spent days teasing them about it, of course, but what else was to be expected?  
  
Sirius suddenly had an urge to go to Peter's room - at the lefternmost side of the second floor - before he realized that wasn't too prudent nor would it look good on his record. He was sane for tonight, at least, and had to try to keep it that way.  
  
Instead, he concentrated on leaving for Surrey - but first climbed up through the attic. There was a trapdoor to it in Remus's room, but Sirius already felt like he had invaded it one time too many and took the ordinary, boring staircase.  
  
It was unfinished and dusty, the way Linda and Sirius and Remus and Morwin (and Peter, but Sirius prefered not to think of him) relished it, but the walls were hung with gorgeous murals and collages - mostly Lily's. Lily had been quite the artist. And many were joint efforts with Lily and Remus, who spent hours creating landscapes together.  
  
Sirius noted sadly that, like the dice collection, there were no new additions to the murals. The one the two had been working on when Lily had been forced into hiding - a sunset on a desert, rich is desert-like colours and whimsical details that characterized their work - was still unfinished. Not so much as a paintbrush stoke had been added.   
  
Sirius studied the others for a moment. There was one particularly admirable one of the solar system. Lily and Remus had cheated a bit by spelling the colours somewhat so that they glimmered and shone, but as Lil retorted when Sirius pointed this out: "This is our hobby and we make the rules!"   
  
Sirius knew better than to argue. Lil and Rem, like Lin, were thought mild and even easy to walk on, but Sirius knew better. They eventually got their revenge, and it wasn't pretty. Just ask Severus Snape, who had learned the hard way when he asked Linda to the Leaving Ball. Or David Avery, who had started making sneering remarks at the condition of Remus's schoolbooks very loudly in the Great Hall. That had lasted exactly a week before Avery had eaten a large slice of humble pie. And then talk to Edmund Wilkes, who had made three "Mudblood" comments to Lily before she smiled sweetly, and, before Wilkes knew what hit him, had disgraced his name before the whole school.  
  
The best part was, they made the revenge look so innocent, Sirius thought with a sad grin. It was the best thing to watch and the worst thing to be on the receiving end of.  
  
There was also a collage. It was mainly worked on by Lily and James, although almost everyone had added to it. It was the Harry Collage. Scraps of official documents, photographs, the first slip of paper Harry had taken a quill to… still unfinished, not a thing added for twelve years. Sirius almost felt a little angry with Remus. That was been important.  
_  
When we all learn the truth, we'll get it to Harry…  
_  
Sirius took one last glance around, at the painting of birds Lily had constructed in their fifth year to help her cope with the grief of her parents' deaths, and of the detailed ink picture of the Gryffindor Common Room Remus had become absorbed in one night when he was still angry with Sirius for his prank that had gotten out of hand in their sixth year. Remus had been so upset he had worked eight solid hours on the picture, recording every single detail of the beloved room, when James had finally awakened him from his trance. Sirius felt homesick just looking at it. The photograph-like drawing of a room that represented times when everything was so much simpler - "How d'we get into the Slytherin common room without getting caught?" - tore at his insides.  
  
He slowly stole from the attic, resisting the urge to take Lily's drawing of a young Harry trying to figure out how a kite worked with him.  
  
"You're wandering around a good bit," said a smart, sarcastic voice of the hallway mirror that Sirius knew all too well.  
  
Sirius turned to it in surprise. Opening his mouth, he found that speaking felt odd, the same he had when Fudge had come…  
  
*  
  
"Inspection!" called another voice Sirius knew well. Christopher Benning, the Azkaban cook. The call served little purpose since nearly everyone was too far gone to register what that meant, but Sirius's thoughts broke for a moment. Inspection. Human contact… and then a memory of running furiously to what was once the Potters' home came to him, and he concentrated on that life-saving thought again.  
  
_I am innocent. _  
  
Keeping track of time was not really an easy thing is Azkaban, so Sirius couldn't say how much longer it was when three new, sane voices came along. His head cleared. The dementors had parted for Cornelius Fudge, Nicholas Chase, and Marta Colton. Sirius reflected that it was pointless for inspections, really. Did it just give Fudge a sense of importance? Did he like coming here?  
  
_If so, he's more insane than the rest of us…_  
  
Sirius kept asking questions. If he could ask questions, his mind could clear enough to be semi-rational. Nicholas Chase - was that really him? He had been a witty Hufflepuff in Sirius's year… right? Marta Colton; she must be ancient. How old now? She certainly looked to be somewhere in the thousands. Fudge. Was he Minister now? What was it gossip had said? Granted, Azkaban gossip was not always accurate, but it kept them alive. Was that a newspaper in Fudge's hand? And a canary on Nick's shoulder? Nick was still keeping canaries? Why were Nick and Colton backing off? Giving Fudge some room? Did Nick not want to face his old friend? What would be Fudge's reaction if he, Sirius, started talking cheerfully? Was that Marauder instincts kicking in? Well, that was a good thing, right? Except, of course, for the fact that he had killed Lily and James and Rose and had no right to be called a Marauder. But wouldn't it be fun?  
  
"Hello, Mr. Fudge," said Sirius brightly.   
  
Fudge jumped, his eyes traveling to Sirius. Sirius knew he must look a mess but barely cared. He knew his voice was a bit rusty from lack of use but barely cared. Was that really a newspaper in Fudge's hand? Newspapers were wonderful things when Azkaban inmates could get their hands on one. Reading kept you sane for a time.  
  
Fudge visibly paled. _Scary old convict, eh?_ " 'Morning, Black," he said, trying to make his voice sharp. Sirius wasn't fooled.  
  
_But two can play that game. I won't try to sound desperate and give him the satisfaction._  
  
"Morning? Really?" Sirius replied in a bored, indifferent tone as if he had plenty of better things to do than chat with Cornelius Fudge. "Interesting. Somewhat hard to tell in here. That's Marta Colton with you?"  
  
"Er, yes."  
  
"Interesting one, she always was. What's she doing now?"  
  
"Department for Magical Law Enforcement… same as Chase…"  
  
"Hmm. Always thought that Department could use some competent people; congratulations on finding Nick."  
  
"Er, thanks. Er, must be going, Black…"  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure," said Sirius casually. "Say," he continued, sounding just as offhand, "you done with that paper?"  
  
"Oh! Erm, er…"  
  
_Articulate one, eh?_ "I rather miss doing the crossword, sir."  
  
Fudge seemed completely flustered. He glanced back at Nick and Colton, who weren't even behind him or in sight. "Sure. Good day, Black."  
  
"Same to you, Fudge."   
  
Sirius glanced at the front cover, feeling exhausted just from the effort of talking. "20 July, 1993…" So it had been… twelve years… twelve years taken out of his life… Harry would be… thirteen… and he was… thirty-three. Thirty-three. And still here.   
  
"Ministry Official Scoops Grand Prize…" Arthur Weasley. He remembered Prongs and Lin telling him about the generosity of Molly Weasley to the Aurors one night when they were in a dreary-looking fix. Good for them, although it was most likely fixed. Kids at Hogwarts? Hmm… that boy with the rat looked to be about Harry's age…  
  
The boy with the rat?  
  
Sirius felt paralyzed, staring at the photograph. Even in black-and-white, and even in the dim light of Azkaban, and the mist that was filling his head again after the inspection, he knew that particular rat…  
  
_Wormtail.  
  
Peter.  
  
Murderer.  
_  
And a fire was lit.  
  
*  
  
"Yeah, lots of ground to cover," Sirius now said casually. "So who else has been in here?"  
  
"Here? My goodness." Sirius could practically hear the mirror smirk. "Not in ages and ages. I've been quite bored, really."  
  
_Oh, let me get you a crying towel. I'm so moved in pity. _  
  
"Who… who was the last here?"  
  
"Well, now let me see. There was the Lin-girl. Right after Lily and James died. She wasn't the last, but I thought you'd like to know, seeing as you were so fond of her. Tears streaming down her face and throwing a few things into a suitcase and getting something of Lily's for the baby. But the last one here was your friend Remus. He stopped by a few times every couple of days after the half of you all got killed, finding stuff for the Ministry, I think. But it was exactly the 15th of November of that year when someone was last year, and that was him. Just sobbing silently the whole time and packing up and few things, setting up wards and enchantments, and goodness knows how he could even see through all those tears…"  
  
Sirius's fist clenched. That mirror just thrived off of misery, very much like a Slytherin… or a dementor…  
  
"…looking all pale and blotchy and dreadful." The mirror sounded positively delighted, but she broke off suddenly. "And it's been empty ever since."  
  
Sirius tried really, really hard to feel her pain but truthfully couldn't.  
  
"What are you doing here? You're in Azkaban," the mirror went on smugly.  
  
"I know I am. I'm my twin brother."  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Sirius. Your humor is a bit rusty. I suppose you didn't get to practice much in that place."  
  
"No, not really," said Sirius sarcastically.  
  
"You're getting pretty nasty as well. But, oh, weren't you the one who got angry when I 'insulted' your friends? Oh, yes, and all I ever did was tell the truth."  
  
"You do know Sibyll Trelawney always laboured under that impression?"  
  
"Sibyll Trelawney?" repeated the mirror blankly.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
The mirror was thoroughly put out. "Well, that's okay, you act superior! Not that you're in any position to! Just like that dratted little Fairchild girl and the werewolf and -"  
  
Sirius's blood pounded in his ears. He didn't want to hear one more insult. "May I remind you that I am a mad escapee from Azkaban and it wouldn't be out of character for me to throw something at you?" he demanded harshly, turning away sharply. Damn mirror. Who's idea had that been?  
  
His.  
  
Oh.  
  
Right.  
  
Sighing, he made his way slowly down the stairs. He stared at the Daily Prophets a moment. Should he read some more, find out what had been happening?  
  
He glanced down at the dizzying paragraphs of small print stating all the work of Death Eater round-ups after Voldemort's fall and decided against it.  
  
No one, including Remus and Morwin and Dumbledore… in twelve years. Is anyone really going to miss it if I take something?  
  
"And I heard them going on about how you killed Lilsy and Jamie! You know you're an evil murderer, Black - and look what you did! Look what you did - they're all lonely and I'm so bored I've fallen to the level of talking to you…!" shrieked the mirror.  
  
Sirius's sane thoughts left him as he screamed back: "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! 'Twasn't!" Angrily he snatched at thin air, starting to cry again. He had one thought: "It was Peter!"  
  
"That idiot?" the mirror called back. Sirius didn't notice he had spoken aloud.  
  
"I'm going! I'll get him! I'll find the - the truth!" Sirius slammed the door shut and transformed.  
  
A few minutes later, a sharp-eyed person might have seen a large black dog running at a furiously fast clip to what looked to be Little Winging, Surrey. One man did and was awake all night, upset at what might have caused the canine to be so afraid, until finally his wife snapped at him bad-temperedly to stop daydreaming in the dead of night and get some sleep.  
  
  



	4. Remus's Return (1)

** A/N: The Gretchi was added before _FBAWTFT_ and I'm lazy. Sue me, I've no money, I'm an easy target. :-)**  
  
_"How can you face the lies you told?  
You're too ashamed of mistakes of old."  
(The Midnighters -- "Midnight Reads The Clock")_  


**  
**

Remus's Return  


  
  
Rustlings could be heard in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Small shrieks from a Gretchi could be heard, and the muffled whispers of certain students.  
  
Remus Lupin grinned to himself. Opening the door lightly, he called: "Why, hello, Fred, George, perhaps Lee?"  
  
"Uh-oh," said a voice that belonged to none of the aforementioned.  
  
"Shh!" ordered Fred, then, brightly: "Why, good evening, Professor Lupin!"  
  
Remus entered the classroom and carefully set the wireless on a desk. Ignoring the curious glances of the Weasley twins at the object, he smiled. "Good evening to you as well. I'm terribly sorry I interrupted you in the process of putting that poor Gretchi back in its bed."  
  
Fred and George exchanged glances. "Right," Fred agreed. "But that's quite all right. We'll just get right to it."  
  
"And George, whilst your brother is doing that, could you kindly tell me who else is in the room, hiding?"  
  
George looked disappointed but lied valiantly: "Just me and Fred."  
  
"George, I heard someone else. Please, now."  
  
"That was us," George replied. "We disguised our voices."  
  
"Ahem."  
  
"Sorry. Okay, Dave…"  
  
David Stebbins, a second-year Hufflepuff, emerged from behind Remus's desk, sheepish-faced. "Hullo," he said brightly.  
  
"Good evening, David. How have you been doing since I saw you this morning, tugging at Maria Deskner's braids?"   
  
"You got _caught_, Dave!" Fred chastised in stern horror.  
  
David shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'm doing quite all right, sir."  
  
"You got _us_ caught!" George hissed at him angrily.  
  
"Fine. Simply splendid." Remus sighed inwardly and tried to hide his grin. He wasn't sure if the Weasleys and Dave Stebbins knew that he absolutely hated punishing them for any pranks. Perhaps _hated_ wasn't quite the right word… but certainly he felt almost guilty doing so. He had a record a mile long as well and quite understood the mind of a trickster. "Any reason I got blessed with the pleasure of your company tonight?"  
  
The Gretchi shrieked.   
  
"Oh - oh, er, yeah!" George cried quickly.   
  
"Terribly confused about yesterday's lesson, sir -" Fred began.  
  
"Interesting. I don't remember you having any lessons with me yesterday."  
  
"Oh, right, well, you know, we wanted a word about -" Fred groped around for a subject. "Er, _George_ had a question on…"  
  
Remus, carefully controlling a neutral expression, played along and turned his gaze to George.  
  
"Er… er… Kapykoae! Yeah, that's right. Kapykoae."  
  
Remus nodded innocently. "Oh. I see. A subject we discussed in September, I believe. And what was the question?"  
  
George tried to me his gaze squarely, but he was holding in so much laughter that his face was turning pink and he wasn't breathing properly. "No, that wasn't it…"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry; must have been my mistake. Continue, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Dark Illnesses!" George tried eagerly. Seeing that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't buying it, he hesitated. "Healing properties? Sources and Shapes? Vampires?"  
  
Remus caught his breath and braced himself.  
  
"Werewolves? Gems from the Dark Mine in Albania? Er… cursed carrots?"  
  
That was enough. Fred and David's smirks blew into full-blown laughter and Remus himself had to chuckle.  
  
"Cursed carrots. Interesting; I've never heard anything about them."  
  
"Well… aside from that, sir…" George smiled charmingly. "You can tell I was paying attention in class, Professor."  
  
"George, first off, I could see quite well you were paying attention in class. You were paying a great deal of attention to Roberta Henweyth of Ravenclaw, I believe. Secondly, that lovely jaunty expression might be better used for Miss Henweyth or at least _female_ members of the staff who find you in their classrooms after-hours releasing the object of the third-years' lessons, particularly when it's a helpless Gretchi."  
  
David scowled and held out his scratched hands. "With all due respect, sir, that's not a helpless Gretchi. It's a Dark Creature with claws that _hurt_."  
  
Remus reached for his wand and kept his expression blank. _So am I, David. No. Remus Lupin, don't you dare start any self-pity, it doesn't help a thing.   
_  
But he couldn't help but wonder what these three students would say if they ever knew. Remus actually had a great deal of respect for the opinions of his students; indeed, he placed far more importance in what children thought that adults. Adults were molded; children weren't. Children were understandable; adults were not. It was the difference between Draco Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy; it was the difference between Blaise Zabini and Kathleen Douglas. And, for some reason, he hated to think of the contrast between Fred and George Weasley know, joking and playing right along with a script that was well-rehearsed between young troublemakers and a sage troublemaker trying to play impartial professor, and Fred and George Weasley recoiling from a werewolf.  
  
Actually, Fred and George and David might think that downright "cool". But David's statement wasn't encouraging.  
  
"It would serve you right if I suddenly couldn't find the ability to clean these, you know," he pointed out as he magicked David's hand free of blood and infection and them performed a numbing charm. "Is Carnum safe now?"  
  
"Carnum?" repeated Fred with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous glance with his twin.  
  
"Your younger sister named her."  
  
Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh! In _that_ case…" he said sarcastically, "yes, Carykins is fine."  
  
Remus cast an eye over Carnum (actually, he had a suspicion that he would be unable to think of the Gretchi as anything but "Carykins" from this point forth), decided she was safely locked up and not distressingly disturbed, and nodded. "May I ask what you were planning to do with her after you succeeded in smuggling her to the Gryffindor common room?"  
  
"No!" George protested. "We're in enough trouble already and aren't that stupid!"  
  
"George, you know the routine by now," Remus shook his head. "I just publicly humiliated you and David got his hands injured. I make you do some meaningless vow not to do it again, will put you on the spot in class at least once, and after about three weeks you'll try something different."  
  
"Hey!" cried George. "So how come Fred gets off easy?"  
  
"Because, Fred's hormones haven't kicked in yet."   
  
Fred smirked. "McG - Professor McGonagall said that you're only encouraging us."  
  
Remus threw his hands into the air. "Me? Encouraging you? Wherever on earth she got that idea I don't pretend to know." He pulled a stack of Ravenclaw sixth-year papers that he had to check from his desk and grinned at the boys. "With that aside, what were you planning to do before I so rudely interrupted?"   
  
David's eyes widened innocently. "Why, nothing."  
  
"Shut up," George whispered to him. "He's okay; he doesn't tell on us."  
  
"Well, you see, we heard that Peeves had very cruelly waken our Seeker and Keeper up too early in the match against Hufflepuff," Fred explained, wincing as he recall Gryffindor's defeat. "We wanted to see how a Gretchi would effect him."  
  
George winked. "You see, Professor, it was an _experiment_ in the name of _learning_."  
  
"I'm sure. I can tell you right now that the idea of setting a Gretchi on Peeves has been tried numerous times before and with no great success." _That's no lie. All that happened was that Zambia caught us at it. _"Did you ever try getting oh, say, pixies on the Bloody Baron and then leading him to believe Peeves did it?"  
  
The twins exchanged evil grins. "No," they said in unison.  
  
"I'm not supplying the pixies and you never heard that from me," Remus warned them.  
  
"No problem," Fred informed him airily.   
  
David eyed the radio with interest. "Isn't that Professor Vector's?"  
  
Remus had to shoot him a small glare. "Yes it is, and it's really none of your business, I'm afraid. Especially when your most recent essay was remarkably like Ginny and Marsha's."  
  
"Okay," David said hastily.  
  
"I think we'll be leaving you in peace for now," George nodded to Remus. "Thanks."  
  
"Thanks? For what? I've just given you the scolding of your life, remember."   
  
"Oh, right," Fred nodded, turning the knob of the classroom door. "Good night, sir."  
  
"Good night to you as well." Remus paused for a moment in a battle with his conscience. "Oh… Fred? George? David?" he called after them when they were nearly out the door. "You know where Gretchi seem to thrive? Dark, cool, damp dungeons."  
  
The response was muffled laughter. "Got it!" George called back as they left.  
  
Remus was still smiling as he started the tiresome task of going through papers on the Unforgivables. Not only was the thought that Snape might soon find a brilliant mess of potions ingredients very soon extremely uplifting, it was just the general mood. He liked the Weasley twins and only wished he would ever get to talk with them not as teacher and students but as pranksters to pranksters.   
  
To improve his frame of mind even further, he was able to quickly find one of his favourite wireless stations. The radio _was_ Marie Vector's; Remus had exchanged _Givens in the World of Arthimancy_ with her for a week or so. He still didn't feel entirely comfortable lending out books of Bella's and Lily's and Sammy's, but Marie was one of the few people he did trust on that score. During the past half of a year they had formed a stable friendship.  
  
_Knock. Knock. Knock.   
_  
"Come in," Remus called, turning down the volume of Dehlsky's lone hit. Some people found it surprising, but simple and clean rock n' roll did just fine for him, thank you.  
  
It was Susan Bones. Hesitantly she pulled her red-brown hair behind her shoulders. "Excuse me, sir. I don't mean to interrupt."  
  
He smiled. "Absolutely not, Susan." He had gotten into several talks with the third-year Hufflepuff during the past few months; each time she was hesitant but by the end of each conversation she would be lively and witty, blue eyes sparkling. Remus couldn't help but think that Ted Sparrengin, with the best of intentions, might have been going about the raising of his step-niece incorrectly. Susan was insecure around adults and didn't fit in with her classmates; she wasn't exactly shy but seemed to fear she might say something wrong. "Not at all."  
  
"It's… it's those Gretchi, sir. What you were saying about hibernation… could you go over that again?" She produced a textbook, opened to the right chapter, and intently took notes as Remus went over a recent lesson. He knew full well, however, that the erratic hibernation habits of Gretchi were not what had brought her here. But he humoured her.  
  
"Oh, I see," Susan said at last. "That's what my friend Katy said when I asked, but I wasn't sure. Thanks."  
  
"No problem. Does Katy not go to Hogwarts?" He knew of no Katys or Katherines anywhere near Susan's year.   
  
"No… she goes to Refrudula." She paused for just a second before continuing nonchalantly, "I met her and my friend Jesse King when we formed a band together. We call ourselves the Obliviators."   
  
_A-ha. Now we're getting somewhere._ "Really?" Remus said, for lack of a more imaginative response.  
  
"Yeah… Jesse's a few years older'n us and Rachel Molesky and Jerome Dennis, though."  
  
"So they're in it, too?"  
  
"Yes. Jesse's sixteen."  
  
"About to graduate?"  
  
"Almost." She tilted her head as if a thought had come to her. "He wants to become an Auror, you know."  
  
_How much you want to bet he's looking for career guidance? _"Interesting choice of career, I'd say. How long has he been thinking of it?"  
  
"Oh," Susan said earnestly, "for several years now, for a long time." From the set of her face, Remus deducted that she was trying to figure out how to word what she needed to ask.  
  
"I surely hope he'll be able to be accepted for training. The Ministry, sadly, has a rather negative view on Refrudians."  
  
Susan let out a breath in relief. "They do, don't they? Do you - think there's anything Jesse can do to help prove himself?"  
  
Remus considered it thoughtfully for a moment. "You know who you want to talk to? Mafalda Hopkirk. She went to Refrudula and ended up working for the Ministry of Magic. She usually answers her letters, too, or at least from what I heard. And meanwhile…" He spent several minutes in the process of explaining a few things to Susan and giving the names of some people Jesse might find helpful, as well as a few tips and such.   
  
Susan nodded. "All right, then. Thank you very much; Jesse'll be so pleased."  
  
"I wish him the best of luck. I'd like to hear of your progress."  
  
Susan nodded again. "We'll be sure to keep you posted. I'll send him it all over Easter holiday." She grinned. "Although you teachers are driving us unmercifully. Isn't the idea to teach us and not kill us?"  
  
"You overheard Diana Newman saying that." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
Her smiled broadened. "Well, yes. I'm liable to be in my fifth year before I finish it."  
  
"What'll you do with all that free time?" Remus retorted.  
  
"Haven't the faintest clue. Hopefully I'll finish over Easter. Although I guess I don't have it as bad as some. I'm taking one less class than all my roommates… and did you see Hermione Granger lately? I'm not sassing her or anything, but she looks terrible! And how she manages to make both Muggle Studies and Divination is beyond me, frankly."   
  
Remus knew the answer to that was in the lending of a Time-Turner to Hermione. He seriously wondered when she'd break down. Yoland Flitwick had already reported that she had fallen asleep in Charms once already, and she was constantly handing in the wrong homework for the right subjects. She looked as worn out as Remus knew he often did. He couldn't help admiring her stubbornness, however. No doubt she was a Gryffindor._ We have a talent for being stupidly blind at times.   
_  
"Miss Granger is managing nicely. I have a feeling she'll drop a class sooner or later. As for the homework load, I'm going to remain completely mum on the subject."  
  
Susan rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. Personally, as long as I don't have to write poetry this year, I'll manage." _Poetry? Why does that sound very Gilderoy Lockhart-ish?_ "I'm going to stay here, though, for Easter… Ted, my uncle, he's visiting Canada for a few weeks. Are you going anywhere?"  
  
Remus shook his head. "No," he said solemnly, "I've been so cruel in assigning homework, and now I'm getting my just deserts. I'm buried in a pile of essays to be checked." A_nd where exactly would I go? It'd be _nice_, of course, to visit Diane and Eddie and Donny and Mark and the rest, but somehow… it would be too much, and too expensive right now.  
_  
"Serves you right," Susan grinned. "I guess I'll go and get started on some Potions work now. Have a good evening, Professor Lupin."  
  
"The same to you, Susan," he nodded. He turned the volume up again after she left. Despite the customary sadness after remembering the Devon crew, he was still happily content. In fact, he was happier than he had been in years.  
  
_Just a year ago I was ready to abandon this world_, he recalled. He had been betrayed too many times; his slow fuse had reached its end. He wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world. He wasn't going to trust anyone short of…  
  
Albus Dumbledore.  
  
And it had been Dumbledore who had given him one more shot at a chance for contentment, if nothing more. And here he was. He was doing something that actually served a purpose, something he actually enjoyed; he was interacting and enjoying the interaction, he was well fed, he felt almost comfortable in his surroundings. _Hogwarts_ is _home._ Adrenaline was running smoothly at this moment; he had pushed Sirius out of his thoughts for the first time that day.  
  
And into this picture broke in Dumbledore himself.  
  
It was his knocks that interrupted a Richard Henley song, although Remus didn't know it at that moment. Turning the radio off again and resigning himself to the fact that he was not fated to be uninterrupted that night he offered a do-come-in to the latest visitor, Dumbledore.  
  
The first thing Remus felt was an instant alertness; most likely Dumbledore wouldn't be hunting him down unless something had happened, and he was living in worry of the worst sort of somethings happening. But when he saw Dumbledore was not in a brisk hurry an almost worse thought occurred.  
  
_He knows. He found all about the Animagi project, and now he's going to want to know why I didn't tell him before. _He worked hard to appear casual while secretly feeling very guilty.   
  
But Dumbledore did not appear distressed and they exchanged greetings that did not speak of trouble. Remus soon found the point of the visit.  
  
"No, thank you," Dumbledore said. "I truthfully simply wanted to inquire if you were going anywhere for Easter holiday."  
  
"Well, no, sir, not really," he said in slight surprise._ He wants me to track down a lead on Sirius.  
_  
Dumbledore raised an inquiring light blue eye. "No? You did not leave for Christmas, either."  
  
_Why leave? There was a full moon and nowhere to go._ "No, I didn't." He paused, sensing he was supposed to say more but having little idea what. Yes, several members of the staff did leave Hogwarts for holidays. Most always stayed, reasons being that some had to stay to keep order and many had relatives and family living in Hogsmeade anyway. But he wasn't sure why he was expected to leave.  
  
Dumbledore tapped a finger lightly, in nonchalant thought. "Not that you're not entitled to, of course. I needed to take a quick head count in any case. I was just thinking, however, that you might want to take a short break."  
  
Remus blinked. "No, sir. I…no. I'm quite fine here."  
  
"But are you? You're not looking well, Remus."  
  
Remus had to smile wryly. "That's not really anything new, sir." Such was the toll transformations took on him that he often looked in need of a several nights' good sleep. The stress of worrying about what Sirius might do, and the continuing guilt of what he was hiding from Dumbledore didn't help matters much of late.   
  
"No, but I imagined Severus's potion might be helping matters somewhat."  
  
"Oh, no, it is," Remus replied hurriedly, not wanting to appear in the least bit ungrateful._ Only…_ "It helps a great deal. It's just," he added carefully, aware that he was very much at unease with Dumbledore at late, "the new broadening experiences, I expect."_ Deceitful. That's precisely what you've been getting. Why don't you just tell him, you coward?  
  
And, as an afterthought, that was a snicker-able "catch" you tagged on.   
_  
Dumbledore was considering him carefully. Remus secretly wondered if Dumbledore had some amazing ability of seeing through minds, and it was not the first time he had entertained these thoughts. "That's almost exactly it. I'm afraid you're overworking yourself. Goodness knows that I wanted you here because you are _not _Griff Rethfy, but I certainly don't want you to push yourself too far. You've a rather bad habit of expecting too much from yourself."  
  
A corner of a floor fascinated Remus for a moment as his face heated slightly.   
  
"But I digress. I didn't come here to lecture. But surely a young wizard of thirty-three has some sort of social life beyond Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked gently, with a kind smile.  
  
"Not any that can't get by with a few cards over Easter," Remus replied. "No, sir, I can be more useful here."  
  
A mild expression of part amusement, part almost annoyance crossed Dumbledore's face. "Then think of it this way," he suggested jokingly, "I'm kicking you out for a week."  
  
Remus had to crack a small smile, although it was somewhat strained. "There's a new one."  
  
"Hopefully effective nonetheless. As of Monday I don't want to see you anywhere on the grounds for a week, Professor Lupin. Good day."   
  
Marie Vector entered very shortly after Dumbledore left. "Did he give you the I'm-throwing-you-out deal, too?" she asked immediately. Their friendship had developed such that they didn't have to bother with greetings and formalities any longer. Remus had been resisting the hand of friendship for years, but Marie was a rare exception.  
  
"Yes," he responded. "Never thought I'd see the day." _I wonder what Gerry Carlin would have said if he'd hear that… I wonder if he's even alive?  
_  
"Oh, I saw the day coming," Marie said cautiously, thoughtfully running a hand through her brown-blonde hair. "He's been throwing strong hints at me for several years now that he thought that such a young person as myself should be out and about more." Marie was even younger than Remus was. She playfully imitated Dumbledore's expression and did a decent job of it - "Excellent, then. From Monday to Sunday I don't want to see your pretty face darkening these walls or I will personally take points from Ravenclaw, Professor Vector. I'll see you shortly, good evening, Marie.' " She grinned. "And if it had been anyone else I'd've slapped him."  
  
"So what're you planning to do?" Remus inquired.  
  
She knocked a quill out of his hand before answering. "You know, he might be right about you. Stop it. There'll be plenty of time later. Myself, I'm still debating on dealing with these awful cousins I have, spending a week with some old Muggle friends and getting in trouble with the law, or simply clearing out to France for a few days. Yourself?"  
  
Remus hadn't much time to think of it. "Well, it's between some dreadful distant cousins, spending a week with some old Muggle friends and having lots of explaining to do and almost certainly getting in trouble with the law, or clearing out to goodness-knows-where for a few days."  
  
Marie beamed. "Glad I could provide a blueprint. I'm leaning toward the last one. Only not France. I'll save it for summer, when I can make a good long stay. I'll go to London instead and count how many people I met up with that I've forgotten all about."  
  
"There's an idea," Remus replied, somewhat vaguely.  
  
"Ah," she surmised, "you're thinking, aren't you?"  
  
Remus snapped to attention. "Sorry. How'd you tell?"  
  
"I smelled wood burning. Hopefully you're thinking of how you'll spend your exile."  
  
"I'll refuse to answer a single question on Emotional Curses, I can tell you that much."   
  
Dumbledore suddenly appeared at the door. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but I believe I misplaced some sheets of parchment. Are they in here?"  
  
"They're in my room, Albus," Marie informed him.   
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you very much, Marie." He turned to leave, and then turned back around to face his former students casually. "You know, Marie, if I were you I'd take this as a perfect opportunity to visit your father's place. Remus, I strongly suggest you take at least a day to go to Serendipity. You and Bella haven't visited it in roughly a decade."  
  
_What he means, although he won't say, is that Sirius might have, anyway.   
_  
Remus stared off for a moment, feeling heavy once again. Serendipity was the very emblem of what he had been trying to force from his mind, old memories and old wounds._ Let me get this straight. First he doesn't want me talking too openly about the old days with Harry. Then he expects me to teach him. And then he expects me to do so after visiting Serendipity.   
I suppose I should be able to, though. What kind of Gryffindor am I?  
_  
Marie sighed. "I hate to say it, but - no, I won't._ Circe_. That was about the last thing I wanted to do."  
  
Remus nodded sympathetically. "I'd think so."  
  
Marie stared off for a minute, and then turned to him. "What's Serendipity?"  
  
Remus sighed. "Serendipity is a place." He offered little more. Marie Vector was not one of the select few who might understand.  
  
_Linda and Lily and James and Peter would_ expect _me to.   
_  
*  
  
Marie and Remus had to obey orders, and made sure Hogwarts was free of their presence by next morning - well, not entirely, since Marie's owl was still terrorizing the place and the Weasleys managed to set off a few choice things in the dungeons, but while this was happening Marie was in Cryth and Remus was in Godric's Hollow, so no blame could be traced back to them by anyone except a vindictive Snape, and that's another story altogether.   
  
Remus was not prone to holding grudges with anyone unless their initials were Severus Snape, but he _was _rather upset, if not downright annoyed, that Dumbledore had awoken his conscience by his suggestion. One of the last things Lily had ever said to him was: "I know this sounds downright silly, but you'll take care of Serendipity if anything - well, if anything happens. If James and I die. I want it to remain and I don't want anyone else living there and I want Harry to see it someday with you and Lin and Peter and Siri and Bella to re-spin all those old tales."   
  
Remus had never intended to _not _keep her promise… but around mid-November of that year he had left Godric's Hollow, the primary reason being it was too full of memories and the secondary being that his "condition" had been mentioned in the _Daily Prophet_. Most forgot all about it and never took much notice to begin with, but Godric's Hollow didn't. In a wrath they hounded him and ordered him out in an emotionally and physically painful eviction. Remus almost didn't care. He couldn't stand it too much longer anyway, and getting away from the Hollow was exactly what he needed. Any change of pace and scenery so his mind was on anything but grief and guilt. He kept telling himself that he'd check on Serendipity "soon"… "in a couple weeks"… "perhaps after the next full moon, when I can't do much else anyway…" but excuse after excuse left Serendipity deserted.   
  
Perhaps this was why he felt a little foolish as he unlocked the front door and no spirits of the Godric Hollow Gang of twelve years ago came to meet him. Just what were you so afraid of?  
  
_Just what were you so afraid of?_ It seemed to be an age-old question in his life.  
  
*  
  
Chapter 2, Part 2... the flashback that didn't fit on this file.   



	5. Remus's Return (2)

Remus was extremely on edge. James, Sirius, and Peter couldn't address him without his jumping slightly and panicking. He spent more hours racking his brains for some believable story to explain his monthly absences than he had been spending on homework. When they reviewed a chapter on werewolves with Professor Zambia in Defence Against the Dark Arts he nearly shook the entire time.  
  
It had been this chapter that had caused a lot of the panic. He had always been concerned about not revealing his secret beforehand, but that chapter was simply painful. His awareness of what others believed of him had not been concrete before; the Bells, certainly, had abandoned and tormented him after they had found out, but Remus assumed it was a mere matter of principle. Not that he liked it, but any means, but there was nothing to be done.  
  
This lesson was a revelation to him, and pure torture. First off, he was nervous to begin with. They had Defence with the_ Ravenclaws_, for heavens' sakes, the House of the Intelligent, and not to mention James, Sirius, Lily Evans, and Morwin Hagley, only the cleverest students in the year. Would one of them put two and two together?  
  
Zambia began with a routine lecture. She was like a starved vulture, Remus had always privately thought. Sirius called her a "she-vampire", and had a lot of supporters on that score. But this one… Remus listened in a sort of horrified trance.  
  
"… werewolves are among the most dangerous and deadly of all monsters… their untamed animal-like savageness makes them a threat at any time of the month… werewolves are among the most prized of tools for destruction among Dark wizards and witches… unfit for polite society, many live in 'packs' in the wilderness… the curse begins when a person is bitten by another werewolf in wolf form; the 'victim' is generally believed to have a certain amount of inhumanness in their souls from birth…"  
  
Sirius nudged those closest to him and motioned to his careful notes. He had copied what Zambia had said word for word, but had written "Zambia" in place of "werewolves". James, usually above insulting others himself, had to bury his face a moment to smother laughter. Lily had to bury her face in Peter's shoulder, and Peter himself was red-faced from pent-in amusement. Bella rolled her eyes, but Sammy and Linda were grinned so hard their faces were liable to split.   
  
"My devoted notes," Sirius hissed to Remus. Remus glanced down and read them, swallowing. He then looked up into Sirius's self-satisfied face and forced a laugh.  
  
Zambia heard. Narrowing her eyes, she snapped: "Lupin? What exactly are you finding so amusing?"  
  
Remus was secretly quite pleased to have an excuse for stemming his appreciation of Sirius's joke. "Nothing, ma'am. I'm sorry."  
  
She glared at him. She had shot many glances at him throughout this speech, making him feel even more uncomfortable. Each of her words was like a bullet.  
  
"I'm not!" Sirius whispered.  
  
"Don't be," Linda assured him.  
  
"Keep it up," urged Sammy.  
  
It was later that evening, while writing an essay for Zambia, that Remus read the chapter thoroughly. While James and Peter laughed and argued over an intense game of Exploding Snap, (nicknamed Exploding Snape, of course) a horrible realisation came over him as he read.  
  
_He was a monster.  
_  
It hit him with the force of the Hogwarts Express. He was a dangerous and deadly monster unfit for polite society, precisely as Zambia had said.  
  
It wasn't just a matter of what-if-they-all-found-out anymore. It was a matter of how James and Sirius and Peter had a perfect right to be revolted and disgusted.  
  
Remus finished his essay mechanically.   
  
"Rem? Are you done? Already?" James asked, wide-eyed. James was actually the best of all of them in Defence Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Yes," Remus somehow managed to reply, having little clue how he was able to articulate even that simple word. He felt himself shaking as he stood.  
  
Lily glanced at him. "Are you all right, Rem?"  
  
"Yes." He felt a sudden need to detach himself. He didn't feel half so frightened. He felt _diseased_, and shamed.  
  
Thus began several long weeks of slow agony. Remus preferred not to write home about any of his anxiety; Mum had enough on her mind to begin with. He couldn't confide in any of his friends… friends he did not deserve. He considered talking to Professor Dumbledore, but surely he had enough on his mind already, with the Knight of Knives and such forth. And why had he admitted him, anyway? Had Remus give this more thought, he might have reached the conclusion that Dumbledore had the right of this after all, but never considered that.   
  
It started showing in schoolwork; his marks began a slow but steady decline. It showed in his activities; he felt chronically tired and the passion for Quidditch and pranks slowly faded. It showed it his sleeping habits; he found it difficult to fall asleep and even more difficult to stay that way unless it was from the exhaustion of a full moon. Once he awoke everyone in his dormitory with a screaming nightmare.  
  
James slapped him across the face just hard enough to awake him. "Rem? Rem, calm down! It's okay!"  
  
Remus was still halfway in his dream. "James," he gasped desperately. "James, I'm -"  
  
"Bloody hell, someone cut it!" It wasAdurin Fletcher, their fifth roommate. He had never quite bonded with the rest, preferring the company of the Gryffindors a year above him.  
  
Remus, teeth chattering, slowly came to his senses and began to calm down.   
  
"Yeah?" James asked, almost keenly.  
  
"W-What?"  
  
"You were saying - or was that your dream?"  
  
"More of a nightmare."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Sorry I woke you."  
  
"Will you be all right?"  
  
Remus smiled ruefully. He was covered in a cold sweat and had a feeling he would be getting no sleep that night. "I'm fine."  
  
*  
  
James, Peter, and Sirius hadn't cared the least bit. Afterwards, Remus felt as if he had wings.  
  
_They hadn't cared.   
_  
In fact, Sirius voiced the opinion that: "It's actually pretty cool, knowing that the oh mighty Arisuis Black has a son who's friends with a werewolf."  
  
Sirius would, wouldn't he?  
  
_Why didn't I see it even then? Sirius would do anything, anything to rebel against his father. From what I know of Arisuis Black, you really can't blame him for that. But I suppose that was what drove him over to Voldemort in the first place. And me... that was one of so many times when he saw me as a thing or a tool, and not a person.   
_  
If we had only seen that sooner, Lily and James might be alive.  
  
Serendipity didn't suggest the sort of place someone might be resisting entering for twelve years. In fact, it was a very pleasant house, and still in fairly good upkeep even if in need of a cleaning and somewhat out of fashion, and in far better condition than some of the places Remus had lived over the years. Everything Remus could see at the moment was exactly as it had been over a decade ago, untouched. It was like a time warp. He could almost see Lily and Linda in the corner, chatting, and Peter, who had been such a workaholic during the last year of his life, busy with papers while James joked with everyone in turn and tried to knock Peter's quill of his hand. Morwin, if her headache weren't too heavy, would be lightly scolding James - "Honestly, Jay, if he's actually doing something constructive, if he wants to grow up a little, let him!"   
  
Remus's eyes began to water. "It's so _dusty_ in here," he murmured aloud, and this excuse for a small show of emotion wasn't entirely untrue. It _was_ dusty, very much so. Remus had developed mild allergies to dust recently due to his work fixing Muggle vacuum cleaners. It was dirty, degrading work, but it brought in some money. He preferred not to think of it now, not being a man prone to self-pity, and had Donny Goschles ever asked about it, he would have cracked a joke to the effect of it was a broadening experience and a very useful piece of knowledge. "It could use a good cleaning." _Especially if Harry ever came here.   
_  
Remus couldn't completely forgive Dumbledore the fact that Harry _had_ never been here. He didn't expect Dumbledore to give him or Bella custody of him, but the Dursleys? And even if he could understand the protections the Dursleys would give him, he didn't understand why Harry was allowed to be devoid of all knowledge he desperately needed most - his background. Bur Remus knew better know than to try anything, as he had when Harry was five or six. That had taken several memory charms and Remus got a thorough lecture from Minerva McGonagall on that score. He never tried to contact Harry again, and even now he had to try and keep his relationship with him purely teacher/student. He would admit to stretching that restriction, but deny breaking it.   
  
In any case, however, there was always the chance that Harry might be able to visit what his own parents viewed as a second home, and Remus felt as if he would have let Lil and Prongs down horribly, now, if it wasn't exactly as it had always been.  
  
_Ah-choo!  
_  
Magic, however, was not an option. Godric's Hollow wasn't purely magical - no village in the part of the world was, besides Hogsmeade. He'd have to do it the Muggle way, since many of the neighbours were such neb-noses, but it wasn't much of a problem. Not only did he have experience with it, but he had a week to kill, after all.  
  
No, that was not the problem. The problem was that some of the coat of dust was not as thick as the rest, and Remus had picked up a familiar scent with his wolf-like senses.  
  
Sirius Black.  
  
Remus clenched his fists a moment. By nature he was a calm, controlled person, and twelve years had been time to come face to face with the facts and learn to deal with it. But there were still times, when you remembered your best friends, and their son, and the daughter that never lived, and the lives three people were never able to finish leading, when you were about ready to throw something.  
  
_I've got an idea! _Eddie Sheridan's even, almost surly, sarcastically bright voice said in Remus's head. _Let's throw Donny about a bit. We'll all get the rage out, even Donny. But make sure one of us can drive to the hospital - like a designated driver, y'know?  
_  
"Eddie, I think that's a fine idea. Only may I throw Black into a river, instead? Donny's pretty innocent of this offense."  
  
He had to smile. There were few times when Donny was "innocent". In 1985 and '85, when they had been co-workers, Donny had a wonderful effect on Remus's prankster reflexes that had refused to die. It was a wonder they hadn't spent several nights in jail.  
  
*  
  
It was a dark, pitch-black evening, the moon a crescent like the smile of a Cheshire Cat, and no doubt the elusive figure was grinning at the escapades of Team 69. Two large lorries were speeding along an side road of Devon, Kent. The owner of team 69, Donny Goschles, drove one. With him was Mark Young. The other was driven by Remus Lupin, known to his mates as Jack Donohue, with good friend Eddie Sheridan in the passenger seat. It was an innocent enough scene, despite the fact that Donny and Remus kept trying to outrun each other. It resulted in considerable beating and banging, but there was no speed limit on this road. Of course, if you didn't want to break your neck you went slower than those two lorries, but none of the four seemed to care.   
  
Overhead, low trees brushed their roots and tires squealed in protest as the drivers rounded sharp turns with little caution. Donny and Mark, naturally, threw a few challenges and insults to Eddie and Remus at times via the radio, and vice versa. They were heading over to the shop of Pittan Grandview, who owned that charmed 23 car, driven by the great Mooney Chamberlain and was under the care of crew chief genius Jay Wade. Donny needed money and needed it bad; Grandview had plenty.   
  
"Sure thing, Donny," Jay, a god friend of Donny's, had told him. "You bring you and some crew over and help us fix the car we wrecked last week, and I'll pay you fair."  
  
As Eddie pointed out wryly, they had gotten roped into being Donny's "crew". They didn't seem to mind. Even Melaine, Mark's wife, had pretended to scold Donny, but couldn't really.  
  
Donald Goschles could charm his way out of any noose on earth.  
  
Jay Wade and Mooney Chamberlain themselves were there, although next to the speeding lorries they were inaudible and unnoticeable. Jay was driving, and ahead of Remus and Donny. Suddenly they were horrified at what they saw -   
  
A white car came speeding out of the bushes, tearing down the hill, and rammed so near Jay and Mooney that the Team 69 was firmly convinced she hit them. The lady was turning the wheel crazily, with an insane grin on her face. She tapped Jay around for a while before Jay veered off to a different road.  
  
Donny's temper had been aroused. He keyed up Remus and Eddie.  
  
"Bloody hell! Did you see that? Did you see that? That woman ran Jay and Mooney off the road! Ed, Jack, did you see that?"  
  
"Yes, Don, I believe we did," Eddie replied dryly.  
  
"Man, I won't stand for that, no sire! No one messes with Jay!"  
  
"So, Mark, having problems?" Remus asked.  
  
A muffled sigh was the reply. "Yeah. The usual. Eddie, do something to calm him down."  
  
"Donny, don't just do something, stand there," Remus ordered Donny. "Let's get her." At the same moment, Donny shouted over the radio: "Donohue, do you read me? We're going after that woman!"  
  
Eddie rolled his eyes. "Ten-four," Remus told Donny, having picked up on racing jargon.  
  
Even the levelheaded Eddie didn't stop the two drivers from giving that lady due payback. Their headlights were like huge cat eyes in the black night as they crept up on the white car, and soon they had her covered. Growing vindictive, Donny and Remus showed little mercy. They hung her out to dry. They edged her off the road, they forced her to fall between and narrowed in on her as if to crunch the car, they nudged the car - and a large lorry "nudging" a car can leave the car's driver with a headache. They "played payback" with her for a solid ten minutes before zooming off.   
  
Donny had calmed down and was laughing. "All right! We showed _her_."  
  
Jay and Mooney, having taken the long way, weren't at Grandview's garage when the four arrived. They knew what to do, however, and set to work. Remus and Donny were underneath a car when Jay, laughing, came in.   
  
"Hey, were are you all?" he asked, still laughing. "Eddie, Mark?"  
  
Mark glanced up. "Hi, Jay."  
  
"Same to you, Mark. Hey, did you see my wife back there?"  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
"Wait a second," Eddie said at last. "That woman you drove you off the road? That was your wife?"  
  
Jay nodded, grinning. "Can you believe her? Say, Mooney, watch out. She might have your job soon."  
  
Mooney chuckled. "She'll have to arm wrestle it off me." Mooney was huge and muscular. Mrs. Wade wouldn't stand much of the chance, but Eddie and Mark could only laugh weakly at the joke.  
  
"Wonder where she is, though," Jay continued. "Thought she'd follow me. So where are Goschles and Donohue?"  
  
Goschles and Donohue remained hidden under the car, nearly dying of choked in laughter and unwilling to show their sorry faces in public until they recovered.  
  
"Jack, I think we done messed up."  
  
*  
  
"Hey, did you see my wife?" became a standing catch-joke with the four and Melaine. Those words were all that was needed to set everyone off, and Donny and Remus, as the masterminds of the plan, took a lot of ribbing for that.  
  
But it was all in good fun. Remus, with his sharp wit and knack for misadventure, had fit in seamlessly with that society. Except for a lot of sudden illnesses and the fact that he was still recovering from Halloween, 1981. But the Products HQ crew and Diana Pitchard were Muggles. It was a refreshing relief. And not only did he "fit in", they were friends. He had attended Mark and Melaine's wedding; he had come very close to outright dating Diane; Eddie had a past similar to his own, and they had recovered and come to terms together.  
  
He missed them. They hadn't even died; there was simply a witch in Devon. While Remus was enjoying himself, he neglected his yearly check-in with the Werewolf Registry - he downright ignored the notices, and paid a dear price when Madam Wenth confronted him, and ordered him out. He supposed he could have gone back; he hadn't wanted to explain.   
  
Right now, however, he concentrated on the present. He focused on the first floor, since his allergies had acted up so heavily here, he wasn't sure he could face the upstairs rooms. He worked methodically, room by room. Mostly, everything just needed a good dusting, although he considered just throwing away a pile of Daily Prophets in the kitchen area that were still there. He figured, though, that there was no point in simply abandoning them, and stored them safely away. He found to his delight that the wireless still worked.   
  
He loved radios. No matter how much either he or others isolated him, a radio was a good companion. Music really was wonderful. He wished he hadn't sold his own - but the Serendipity wireless would remain there, and that was that. It was tradition, and goodness knew that Remus wasn't the first to break tradition. Not with considerable encouragement, anyway.   
  
The first thing that qualified as a "task" was the cleaning of several huge throw rugs in the living room. He took those outside and had the fun of beating them the Muggle way. It released pent-up emotion, and this was a pretty emotional experience. At first the _whacks_ kept in beat with the wireless.  
  
"No official word on the whereabouts of Sirius Black…"  
  
Remus scowled at Norrin Quinton and changed it to a Muggle station.   
  
"As a further update, escaped convict Sirius Black was spotted in far north from our location today. While he does not appear to be an immediate threat…"  
  
You couldn't escape it. Sirius, not Remus's friend, but a cold-hearted murderer, had escaped from the one place where he couldn't hurt innocent people. Not in the magical world, not in the Muggle, not even when you were trying to enjoy a nice dose of Lennon and McCartney.   
  
_No luck on the apprehension of Sirius Black…   
_  
Whack.  
  
_I hate you, Sirius. I don't understand why you did it, and there's no excuse.  
_  
Whack.  
  
_You killed James. James, Sirius. Prongs - your best friend in the world. You two were closer than anyone else that ever lived, it seemed. Everyone thought you were brothers. Everyone at Hogwarts would call both of you "Blotter". Remember? Remember that, Sirius?   
_  
Whack.  
  
_"Moony, come on. You can tell me, whatever it is. I'll always be there for you."  
_  
Whack.  
  
_And Lily. Lily. James's wife. The person in the world James loved the most. You had classes with her and you played Exploding Snap with her and you fought with her and laughed with her. You always said in our first year how you'd kill that little redhead who ought to have been in Slytherin. After you two became friends, we never thought you'd make good on your threat. Circe, we never thought you'd really kill her even when you didn't like her. You needed a rival. Lily, Sirius - Lily.  
_  
Whack!  
  
_And Rose. Rose never got a chance to live, Sirius. Never. She never saw the sun, or grinned a near-toothless grin and forced her first words, she never got a chance to annoy her older brother, she never made a best friend, or begged for a pet, or slyly lied to James about where she was the night before, or argued with Lily over clothing, or told her parents she loved them. She never played on a swing, she never rode a broomstick, she never learned to read, she never got the thrill of her Hogwarts letter. Stupid, trivial stuff? Perhaps some of it sounds it. But the fact is that she never got to do it.   
_  
Whack!  
  
_"If you want to kill James, you'll have to kill all of us, too!"  
_  
Whack!  
  
_And Harry - your godson, the pride of James's life. You destroyed his parents and family and godmother and anyone who would have cared for him. You sent him off to hell, in a household that never loved him. With Petunia Evans! He never knew what it was like, either - to remember a mother kissing him, or to have a father helping him onto his first broomstick ride, or pulling a younger sister's braids. I barely know him, at least compared to what I ought to, for James and Lily's sakes, but it doesn't take much to see that his home life is miserable. The only remembrance he has of his parents is their screams of the night they died. And you caused that, too.   
_  
Whack!  
  
_"I solemnly swear to love and protect his child…"  
_  
Whack!  
  
_And Peter. How could you destroy him like that? Peter was your friend, Sirius. How many times did he save you in class by whispering an answer when you hadn't read any of the chapter? How many times did he take the blame for one of your jokes? How many times did he glance at you in concern and ask if you were all right or needed anything? You didn't need to kill him; you could have gotten away from him easily. But you did. It was your downfall, wasn't it? Too full of yourself; it got you in Azkaban. Which you really just about deserve. Almost. More than almost anyone else in the world. Just enjoyed killing off friends, didn't you?  
_  
Whack!  
  
_"Morwin, don't pay those gits any mind. We're your friends, and if they give you any more trouble, tell 'em to bring it up with Sirius Black, okay?"  
_  
Whack!  
  
_Linda. Oh, what a laugh. All your proclamations of love and adoration for her - in speech and manner - and you destroyed her as well. I wish so badly that you could have seen what you caused in her, because that if anything could make you sorry for what you did. Her feelings were delicate, Sirius, you should have known that. She was miserable. Miserable. So miserable that she started acting with no regard for her own life - and she died. Because of you, Black!   
_  
**Whack!  
**  
_I won't. I refuse. I will not let you destroy one more life. No, no, and no. I will not let you kill Harry.  
_  
Whack!  
  
_But,_ taunted an annoying voice in his head, _those wonderful sounding vows don't do much when you can't even confess one little rather important fact to Dumbledore, right?  
  
****_WHACK!  
  
Remus decided he had beat the poor rug up enough. Teeth gritted with self-anger, he moved one to the next task. He forced his mind onto something else. _  
_  
Remus soon was back inside, and the living room was looking, well, like a living room again. Unfortunately, the WNN's "Ten After Laughter" was now on, with a short live clip from Griff Rethfy._ The so-called comedian.   
_  
"Yeah, yeah, they're all worried about Sirius Black, aren't they?" Rethfy too-bright voice drawled. "Seriously."  
  
Remus sighed. You couldn't get away from it, could you? And considering how long Remus himself had known Sirius, that pun was old, old, old.  
  
"That's not even a name, y'know? That's just a failed colour," Rethfy continued, unaware that he was echoing something Remus himself had once said. "You can almost see how the poor kid grew up the way he did. Can you imagine yourself introducing yourself, say, on the first day on the Hogwarts Express? 'Hey, can I sit here?' 'Sure.' 'So, what's your name?' 'Augustus Edwards.' 'I'm Donald Eager. Who're you?' 'Er, well, they, er, call me Sirius Black…' 'So what's your real name?' 'Sirius Black.' 'Seriously?'"  
  
Remus had a personal opinion that when a comedian had to laugh to show the audience just how funny they were, it was a flop. Just his own personal, humble opinion, of course.  
  
"And then Black's father. Any of you know Arisuis Black? Thank you, thank you very much. Arisuis Black, remember him? About six feet tall, and the only thing supporting that were intimidation and no backbone? That's right. I always felt sorry for his kids, personally. Now, remember when Black tried to pick on Moody, Millry, and Mead?"  
  
The audience laughed.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that was real sweet. Got to remember that Moody was just a slip of a rookie then, too. He was a paranoid youngster, as I recall. Anyway. So. There was Black, and at every turn he'd have a paranoia, a Refrudian woman who wrote for a living, and a Refrudian werewolf showing him up? Remember that? Oh, oh, was sweet. Remember when Black discharged Mead? First thing she said was: 'YES!! I don't have to take orders from you anymore!' Remember when Millry left, first thing she said? Sweet ol' Patty? 'YES!! I don't have to put up with you anymore!' Hey, anyone want to guess what Moody said when he went on holiday? Anyone? Oh, come on. You, young man?"  
  
And uncertain voice answered: "Er, 'yes'?"  
  
"Aw, close. No, Moody did it best of all. He gazed at Black, kind of like this, you know, and, of course, he had to wince as he saw Black's face. So he just sort of looked at him, and said: 'But I haven't put you in Azkaban yet, Black."  
  
There was thunderous applause.   
  
Remus switched off the radio.   
  
Didn't the media have _anything_ better to talk about than to inflate the ego and glory of a murderer? Remus worked upstairs in silence, without the companionship of the radio, and/or Griff Rethfy.   
  
*  
  
Remus slept badly that night.  
  
Logically, he should have been just fine. He was still achy from his last transformation, he had just spent a full day cleaning, and it wasn't as if he wasn't used to sleeping at Serendipity. He had a hard time being comfortable in places he didn't know, and he often found himself in exactly those sorts of places. Always roaming. Moving.   
  
At one point he tried to give up on the idea of sleeping. He found a piece of parchment, quill, and ink and tried to get a weight off his chest by finally confessing. He hated himself for putting the lives of hundreds of students at risk because he couldn't face up to what he had done. Sometimes he was very sure there was no way Sirius was using his alter-form to sneak around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Other times, like on sleepless nights such as these, he wasn't half so sure.   
_  
Dear Professor Dumbledore -_  
  
He threw down the quill, stared at the three words, and sighed. It wasn't something he could write. He tried to force himself to think of each individual student… from Harry, whom he had promised Lily and James to protect, to Draco Malfoy, whom he would dearly have loved to hex once or twice when he forgot that Draco was merely a boy raised in a house of corrupt values who hadn't been taught any better.  
  
_I have a bit of information on Sirius that I believe you should know. He's an Animagus, a large black dog with large pale blue eyes, who resembles a Grim. It's possible, although unlikely, that he is hiding by using this ability. _  
  
He wished he could leave it at that. Sign it and send it off. He could, technically. But come next Monday Dumbledore would ask him how he knew that, and that's what he couldn't face - admitting to one of the last people on earth who trusted him that he had blatantly disobeyed him years ago. And it was worse, now. He's now also had to say why he had waited so long before telling him this.   
  
Remus took a deep breath, still trying to force the thoughts of everyone he might be endangering by this if he didn't "'fess up". He had done this countless times since last July, but then he imagined Dumbledore's reaction. Remus didn't care if he lost his latest position, although he loved it very much. He probably only deserved as much. It was just the thought of having to admit that - to look into those discerning blue eyes and say that he had betrayed Dumbledore's trust almost in the same way Sirius had betrayed Lily and James. And Dumbledore's reaction - the disappointment, the quiet rebuke, the answering of questions of "Why?", the loss of confidence in the one person left who took him for what he was and trusted him.Remus told himself firmly that he wasn't allowed to rest until he had made up his mind to make a clean telling of it, but soon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.  
  
*  
  
It was evening before he declared himself finished and went outside for a while. The veranda still needed a good cleaning, but he had a week, after all. The barn still looked in good condition. Remus knew that barn a bit too well; he had spent several full moons there and knew it would take a little more than twelve years for it to fall apart, but it still probably needed a going-over. The garden was a desert. Lola Lupin's heart would have broken, but Remus hadn't inherited his mother's natural gift with plants and had little clue what to do with it. Perhaps one day if Morwin was feeling well, she could attend to that.   
  
"Why, if it isn't one of the Serendipity youngsters!" exclaimed a voice.  
  
Remus turned sharply, finding a middle-aged woman with a small child on her shoulders. She waved merrily and came along the stone path to Serendipity. He racked his brains for any names or recollections of her. Not being able to place her, he went on alert. An accomplice of Sirius's?  
  
She had a round face and startling deep blue eyes. Her blonde hair was being tugged by the young boy. "I _know_ it's one of you. Horribly, I can't place a name. Let me see. Remus, wasn't it?"  
  
It finally came to him: this was Laura Windsor. She was a Muggle who lived a few houses down. He smiled. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Remus Lupin, and hopefully you're still Mrs. Windsor or my memory's failing."   
  
She smiled back. "Yes, I'm still her. Although sometimes she disagrees. Sometimes Kenny does, too. Kenny, say hello to Mr. Lupin."  
  
Kenny glanced at him and grew shy. He chose to keep tugging at Mrs. Windsor's hair.  
  
"Why, hello, Kenny," said Remus seriously. "Very nice to see you."  
  
Kenny glanced up again, and a half-smile broke on his face. "Hullo."  
  
"It's been so long since any of you were here!" Mrs. Windsor exclaimed. "Just up and away, were you? Grown out of the old Hollow?"  
  
Remus smiled slightly. "Not precisely."  
  
"Why on _earth_ didn't any of you visit? I missed Lily and James's child… and Linda's 'bloody guitar', as Val called it… "  
  
"Lily and James and Linda are dead. So is Peter. They died in '81."  
  
He had put it rather bluntly. The truth was, he had come to terms with the fact. It was a cold, hard, unchangeable reality, but it still stung a little, and he therefore hadn't broken the news very gently. Mrs. Windsor went slack for a moment, and then oddly pale.  
  
"They… they did? Are you… oh, of course you are. I'm sorry. It's just terrible to hear that." Mrs. Windsor tried to give proper condolences, but Kenny wasn't quite so sympathetic and kept tugging her hair. "I'm sorry. That must have been terrible."  
  
_I wonder if she heard about Sirius - of course she did, but if she recognised the name?   
_  
"Well, that's how it goes, I guess," Remus replied quietly. "I really couldn't bear to come around here. I'm sorry if it was rude to not give any notice."  
  
"Oh, no. Of course not. Are you going to stay here?"  
  
"Not exactly. Just fixing it up. Are you sure I've been the only one here for a while?"  
  
Mrs. Windsor thought for a moment. "Well, there's old Perrin Richards, claiming that someone was here a few months ago… but you remember old Perry and his overactive   
imagination, right?"  
  
"Which way did he go?"   
  
"'Pearred to be heading toward Surrey."  
  
"How long ago was this?"  
  
"Oh, about… seven months ago."  
  
Remus sighed. Once again, Sirius was too quick for him.  
  
*  
  
  



	6. Peter's Return (1)

**It's over! *bursts into tears of ectasy... all right, maybe a little sadness too, just a little*  
  
This work has been, well, *work*. In fact, if I had gotten my way, I'd've put it aside and concentrate on something else. (But, of course, you guys all just had to say you HAD to read the rest... brats. :-) To those whose support (praise and flattery and ego-imflation, baby, yeah!) and constructive criticism helped me finish, I wish to thank everyone specifically: the longtime supporter Voltora, the incredibly ego-inflamating Okatu-hime, the wonderful (T.J., no other word for it :-) Lavander Ice, that sharp-cookie Sorensen, the ever encouraging Le Chat Qui Garde La Lune (and I can spell it by heart now), the oh-my-gosh-did-I-just-receive-a-review-from-HER?-Iniga, the spot-on Moonrose (yes, I am my own worst critic, but someone's gotta be), the Litte Rascal... erm, Emily K. Lupin *wink*, and the fellow-sufferer of Outcastism 22 ermioneH. I also want to extend a huge thank-you in advance to anyone else who reviews. As Stephen King put it: "Writers _are _needy."  
  
This chapter was no day in the park, but I think my writing improved, which is half the battle. As for the other half... I'll shut up now, shall I?   
  
**_"As for my friends, [they] pick me up when I'm feelin' blue, now how 'bout you?  
Does your conscience bother you, now tell me true."  
(Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Sweet Home Alabama")****_  
  
Chapter 3 - Peter's Return  


  
_How did it all start?_  
  
The door of Serendipity closed loudly. Peter Pettigrew's hand withdrew from the knob sharply, as if it burned him, and he turned around almost frantically, eyes scanning about in quick darts. He was panting in great, swift breaths, his entire appearance disheveled, and even in pause his posture was in that uncertain state of nonmotion, as if his limbs were wildly anxious to move, but his mind needed a minute to catch up. He was a hurricane of nervous, panicked, alarmed energy.  
  
_I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm **dead**._  
  
He tried to calm enough to listen. _Please, please, please, don't let them be here. Please, please, please…_  
  
No sound greeted him. He exhaled ever so slightly in relief. Sanctuary.   
  
But how long would that last?  
  
_The barriers still admitted me. They haven't gotten here yet._  
  
Peter was short and slight, and it helped him in this case as he moved almost scurry-like through the living room. One of the oddities of Serendipity. You opened the door, and one short step down was the welcoming living room.  
  
_Is it just me, or doesn't it look welcoming? No, no, Peter, you're not thinking clearly. Too many years as Wormtail. Houses don't have feelings. Maybe the idealist James liked to think that, but they don't. They don't! Houses don't have emotions; they're just there! Serendipity won't hurt you, it doesn't want to, and it can't.   
_  
Sirius and Remus, on the other hand…  
  
Sirius and Remus, on the other hand, definitely had emotions, they wanted to hurt him, and it was absolutely within their capabilities to do so.  
  
But still, Peter could have sworn the empty hearth, the casual armchairs and loveseats, the matter-of-fact end tables, were glaring at him. They were saying: "Rat. Rat. Rat."   
  
The kitchen was, too… no, no, no. It wasn't. But if you squinted, it seemed to do so. Peter's cloak swished as he turned sharply at the slightest sound of noise.  
  
He was tired - so tired. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Shaking, he glanced around the kitchen. Surreal, it all was… the past fifteen years had been like… like a dream. As Linda might have said: "Like a wildfire out of control"… some Muggle song.   
  
_Don't think about Linda. Linda never, never liked you._ So true. From the moment they met at Hogwarts, as they were Sorted into the same House, Linda had been suspicious and wary of him. Why? Peter wondered. So one else was. He was Peter, the Gryffindor class clown. The one who would make smart-alec remarks in class, and describe Zambia in all sorts of uncomplimentary but amusing manners. He was the one who could brew potions, if do little else. He was friends with that blasted group of troublemakers from Gryffindor. He wasn't the genius, but he was the sweet, funny, amusing one. A little odd… but so were the rest of the "Marauders". There was Sirius Black, who was the son of that Arisuis Black, who was nothing like the rest of his family… better or worse, depending how you looked at it. There was Remus Lupin, who managed to miss more class than everyone else put together, who always seemed to act a little more mature than his classmates. There was James Potter, who, even for a Potter, was so optimistic and charming that he left most people breathless, and into the bargain he looked the part of a clown, with hilariously untidy dark hair and ridiculous big glasses.  
  
In fact, for those reasons and others, Peter was considered the most "normal" of them at school. Everyone liked Peter; it was hard to dislike him. So why had Linda? Lily had once said hesitantly: "Well, you sort of act like Lin's uncle, and you know she doesn't like him…"  
  
"Peter? Mr. Fairchild?" James burst out laughing. "Yeah, right! There're as different as day and night!"   
  
It suddenly hit Peter like a bucket of ice-cold water.   
  
Not anymore. Peter and Mr. Fairchild were exactly alike.  
  
_No. No, we're not. Fairchild was a pig-faced git of a weakling. I'm… I'm Wormtail. I outwitted the brightest of the bright. I made it this far. I gave the Dark Lord what no one else could. I'm not… Fairchild. I'm better!_  
  
Peter was shaking.  
  
_How did it start? How? How?  
_  
The past fifteen years, apart from being a wildfire out of control, had been… not quite a dream, not even a nightmare. More like a daze. It had started out so little… Death Eaters whispering to him… Peter wondering what it was all about…  
  
And WHAM!  
  
The Death Eater initiation rite… the killings… the torture… inflicting it and receiving it… Lily and James dead… the Dark Lord, gone… Peter, shocking Sirius and framing him… becoming a pet rat… handed around a wild, energetic wizarding family… waking up one day and seeing James. But it hadn't been James. It had been Harry. That had been quite a shock… he'd felt… no, not guilty, he had nothing to be guilty for… Peter fell asleep again, into blissful unconsciousness… not having to think, to work our answers… "M-Molly… it's Black, Sirius Black, he escaped from Azkaban" - "You can't be serious!" - "No, no joke, Molly, listen"… (_Thank you for your kindness, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but I might be endangering you here…_)  
  
*  
  
Wormtail shifted uneasily. He wished Ron would find a seat so the constant movement would stop.   
  
Soon it would be the least of his worries.  
  
For one, there was that blasted Kneazle… it's mere presence was making him highly uncomfortable. But for now the little beast was strapped in a basket, and he wouldn't have to worry until at least… at least until that Hermione-girl let him out. _She reminds me of Morwin so much. And look where all her cleverness got her! A _cat_, of all things…_ Peter tried to force his mind from anything but the decade-old memories swarming in until he could fall asleep and not have to worry.  
  
"Go away, Ginny," Ron ordered… sounding like Sammy Orr: "Go away, Kenny. Now, I want to talk with Lily and Peter." Not even realizing they were being mean to their younger siblings.  
  
"Oh, that's nice," Ginny grumbled, walking off… probably to find that Hufflepuff boy she hung out with.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly.  
  
Harry. Harry. For heavens' sakes, why did he have to be the pet of the Boy Who Lived's best friend? Ron couldn't've picked anyone else, could he? Just when Peter felt like he could think easily, Harry was dragged in.  
  
"We need to talk - alone," Harry replied. Wormtail guessed he was nodding his head toward a group of rowdy students having a raucous get-together… _A lot like us lot… Peter, shut up. _  
  
"Okay, we'll find a compartment," Hermione said in her matter-of-fact, question-and-answer tone.  
  
Wormtail only hoped they would find it soon. Luckily, Wormtail felt himself drifting off. Being kept up all night of fright of that orange furball had its purposes…   
  
"Here's one."  
  
"The whole of Ravenclaw is in there, Ron!"  
  
"You'll fit in, won't you?"  
  
"Come on," Harry interjected. Peacemaker, as always. He sounded a lot like Peter did when Sirius and Remus were arguing… as they were prone to do…  
  
_Don't think of them. _Wormtail squirmed uneasily. But Sirius wouldn't get into Hogwarts, would he?_ If Dumbledore could stop You-Know-Who - and Peter had seen those defeats first-hand - then he could stop Sirius Black._  
  
"Last one… I think this is good…"  
  
"Wait."  
  
There was an abrupt pause.  
  
"Well, go on, doesn't look like he'll wake up anytime soon. Harry?"  
  
Harry hesitated._ How like Lily._ "I guess. I'm not supposed to know this, but, anyway…" _Now he's being James. Always knowing what he shouldn't. _  
  
"Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron steadied; he had sat down. Finally.  
  
"Professor R.J. Lupin."  
  
Wormtail felt himself freeze. _Oh. No. Please let there be another R.J. Lupin in this world… I'm jumping to conclusions. This might be that brother of his, Ritchie…_He ignored the fact that Ritchie's middle name was Donnelley.  
  
"How d'you know that?"_ Yeah… that's right, know-it-all, just how d'you know that? Not nice to get me worked up over nothing…_  
  
"It's on his case." Oh. _Not good, not good._ Wormtail barley heard the ensuring conversation, extremely worked up. Remus was here, within two yards of him. Sirius, who knew what he had done, was fast coming. And if Sirius convinced Remus he was innocent?   
  
"… Defence Against the Dark Arts." _Defence? Where's Zambia?_  
  
Wormtail had to marvel at himself. At a time like this, the innate instinct of Be Wary Of Grace Zambia still held firm.  
  
"Well, I hope he's up to it. He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway, what were you going to tell us?"  
  
"It was the other night, when I went to get Scabbers's rat tonic - "  
  
_You could have saved the trouble. That stuff is awful._ Wormtail tried to keep still. What if Ron took him out of his pocket - like, right now? If Remus saw him, he had a lot of explaining to do.   
  
_It was Sirius, tell him. I escaped Sirius but… but was afraid he'd come after me. That' s right… I was scared of Sirius coming after me. Right now, that's the truth.  
_  
"Sirius Black escaped to come after you?"_ I only hope Remus'll say the same thing…_ "Oh, Harry, that's bad…"  
  
_Wait… they think he's after Harry. But… of course. That's right. Well, rather they'd think that than… something else. _  
  
"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry was retorting. "Trouble usually finds me." _Very, very Lily. Very, very James. Fall asleep, Scabbers, like a good rat. _  
  
*  
  
That hadn't been a pleasant day, either.  
  
And now… what he had been worrying about since July… it was here. Oh, was he ever in trouble. He might have preferred being in the hands of Death Eaters. He scrunched his face. If… if Sirius and Remus managed to convince some Death Eaters… no, that wouldn't happen. They wouldn't talk and the Death Eaters wouldn't listen. Hopefully.  
  
_And I never meant to do it! _He truthfully never woke up one day and said: "I'm going to go kill some people and betray my best friends." No, never. It just sort of lead to that.   
  
When did it start? he asked himself as he rummaged the cupboards. He was hungry and the thought of eating actual food, not rat feed and stray scraps was welcoming. I didn't just become a murderer. _No, I've never been a murderer. Remember what Baddock said. You were… performing a service. _  
  
Had it been when… no, before the Death Eaters contacted him. What had led him to do even accept that? When Lily and James got engaged? He could remember such feelings of jealousy… he loved Lily like a sister, and now she would be loved like a lover. James had everything, why Lily, too? But… but that hadn't lasted long. He had gotten used to the idea, had tolerated it. And Lily was so wonderfully happy.  
  
Had it been when Maria Todile of Slytherin invited him as her guest to the Leaving Ball, their last dance at Hogwarts? Perhaps. That's certainly when his name got around… interesting… circles. But why did he accept? The Peter just two years before would have died before going to a ball with a Slytherin… except Kathleen Douglas, but that was a different story. Everyone liked Kathie.  
  
When James and Sirius and Remus started having some big secret in their sixth year they hadn't let him in on? Peter had been wildly confused and a little upset at not being let in on anything that night. He had waited by the Great Hall for James and Sirius to come… it had been a full moon night. He could remember anxiously glancing at the moon through the enchanted ceiling, fidgeting, wondering if he should just go without the other two. Had they already gone to the Shack? But then, why hadn't they waited for him… they needed him, didn't they? Suddenly James entered.  
  
"Prongs!" Peter called, trying to keep his voice low. "What's going on?"  
  
James looked serious. "Well, I can't get into it now. Come on."  
  
Peter thought James would head to the Whomping Willow, but instead he found himself following him to their own dormitory. James removed his glasses, looking drained.   
  
"James? What happened? Is it about Rem? Is he okay?"  
  
"Sort of. He'll be all right though, I think. Get some sleep; I'm beat."  
  
James never, ever brushed him off like this. Of course, James was rarely ever tired - he had constant energy, unless he was worried, which in case he would become withdrawn and moody if he didn't instead release it in the form of noise and laughter.   
  
This continued the next morning. Sirius was as vague as James, with an odd glint of well-I-did-it in his eyes, almost defying James to start telling him off.  
  
Confused, Peter tried to visit Remus in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey didn't allow him to enter until that evening.  
  
"Not feeling well?" Peter asked tentatively after several awkward minutes.  
  
"Tired," Remus mumbled.  
  
"Er… about last night…"  
  
Remus glanced up as sharply as someone half-asleep could. "What about it?"  
  
"I - I d-don't know. What h-happened?" Peter cursed himself; his old habit of stuttering had come back.  
  
"I'm not sure, either," Remus replied shortly. Peter didn't get much more information that night. He felt completely left in the dark and a little upset. None of the others brought it up to him. No one mentioned it after that in front of him; no one explained why Remus and Sirius refused to speak to each other; no one explained why Snape kept leering at them in the corridors even more often than was usual.   
  
At one point Remus and Snape both disappeared on a Saturday. Coming back that evening, Snape looked bitterly disappointed and Remus almost blank.  
  
"What happened?" Peter overheard James asked him quietly.  
  
"I'm here, aren't I?"   
  
"Oh. Well…" Then both spotted him and clammed up.  
  
It cleared up somewhat. The next month Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs had their usual romp; Sirius and Remus soon seemed to have patched things up, although their interaction was still strained and forced. They didn't have little arguments a zillion times a week anymore; instead of bringing it up Remus would merely glance sideways at Sirius, eyes darkened, and not say a thing. Somehow that was most disturbing of all. The two of them having differences of opinion and acting upon it was so normal to Peter that having it gone was like the sky suddenly turning purple. It took a while to get used to.   
  
Peter tried to sulk a while, to get them to notice that he was angry that no one felt the need to trust him with what had happened, but it hadn't lasted long. It was impossible to stay angry with them, but Peter was hurt.   
  
Now he understood perfectly… _but it's a little late now. _  
  
Scowling, Peter found the cupboards empty. So what had led up to the fact that his three closest "friends" hadn't trusted him with that matter?   
  
_Maybe_, an annoying little voice in his head nagged, _it's because you had stopped trusting them.  
_  
Shut up, Peter ordered the Voice. Sulkily, some part of him registered that the Voice had a - no, it didn't have a point. The Voice was just trying to annoy him. Morgana, but did the Voice ever enjoy annoying him. Morgana, but didn't he prefer his rat form at times. His body didn't, but his mind did. It was so much simpler to shut things out.   
  
He remembered Remus, not returning from Christmas holiday in their second year until March and refusing to elaborate why. He remembered Sirius, getting odd letters in their fifth year and ignoring his questions of why. He remembered James, growing silent for long periods of time after Sammy's death, not talking to anyone but Lily, and certainly not Peter.  
  
Peter couldn't trust them anymore. And so he didn't. He could remember frantically wondering what to do about his Arthimancy essay, having forgotten about it, the night before it was due in his fourth year. He could remember eying about the dormitory wildly, his eyes landing on Remus's essay, and glancing at the full moon out the window. _He'll never know… he'll think he forgot to do it, or lost it._ And so Peter merely took his friend's… and had been right. Peter had not been caught. And even when, a few months later…  
  
*  
  
"What're you looking for?" Sirius finally asked in exasperation.  
  
"Mum said boys our age all catch the 'look-abouts' around now," James supplied.   
  
Peter fidgeted, knowing the answer…  
  
"I can't find my Ancient Runes translation," Remus replied worriedly.  
  
"Don't look at me. I don't even take it," Sirius said. "I don't know why you let Peter talk you into it."  
  
"You make it sound like I dragged him kicking and screaming into the classroom," Peter said, trying to sound hurt and offended.  
  
"That's what it sounded like," James nodded solemnly, with his trademark innocent and serious expression.  
  
"Sorry," Peter said quietly, not intending anyone to hear him.  
  
Remus did hear him but mistook the meaning. "Don't worry about it. I don't mind. I just need to find that translation; it took me four hours."  
  
"You've been forgetting a lot of homework around your transformations lately," Peter said carefully, trying carefully to not sound accusing.   
  
"I know I have," Remus sighed. "Keyes is going to kill me if I forgot one more Potions assignment. But I swear, I _did_ this one. I remember finishing it before Thursday so that tonight I'd have time to do the essay for Zambia on Climatics and Unforgivables for tomorrow. Which is nearly today."  
  
Peter tried not to look guilty. It was uncomfortably easy to do. "Well, I look for the Runes one, shall I? Get to work on the Defence essay."  
  
"Thanks. But wait - I just want to try a Summoning Charm."  
  
Now Peter panicked. Just as Remus said: "Accio" he saw the essay - with his name, but still vaguely resembling Remus writing and style - fly from his schoolbag. He caught it mid-air and pretended to look at the name on it. "No… this is mine."  
  
Remus sighed. "All right."   
  
Peter still felt guilty, incredibly so, as Remus, who still looked exhausted, spent the rest of the night scribbling away at the two assignments. Several times Peter was on the edge of revealing what he had done, but managed not to. In fact, he even managed to get some sleep, finding that while asleep he didn't feel guilty a bit. He didn't have to think of what he had done. He could never have guessed how this knowledge and skill would serve him in later life.  
  
Professor Dalton didn't bat an eye at Remus's translation, which was untidy, crumpled, not quite complete, and all in all a mess. He didn't have that sort of luck in Defence Against the Dark Arts, however. Despite the fact that Remus had skipped breakfast and wrote all during The Study of Ancient Runes (come to think of it, Peter recalled, Remus didn't pay much attention in that class in the best of times) he hadn't been able to find six feet for his essay, and Zambia spent a good quarter of an hour giving him one of her infamous ranting monologues.   
  
Peter, however, discovered that he cold block out Zambia's hollering by focusing on the clock. He stared at the second hand and counted the movements. In fact, by the time they left, he couldn't even feel empathy for him. Just how thick could one person be, anyway? If Remus was going to be a blind idiot, then he should expect that sort of thing.  
  
And it led Peter to bigger things.  
  
*  
  
… Peter remembered it with no guilt whatsoever. In fact, it just led to more and more. If he could do that much, what was to prevent him from getting Bella's Herbology homework as his own? What was to prevent him from framing Hannah Mockingham of Hufflepuff so his own offence - wandering around the castle in the dead of night - would go unchecked? What was to prevent him from borrowing James's Invisibility Cloak - without permission - to spy on Kathie Douglas, so he knew of her interests and would therefore have a topic for conversation? Why not bewitch the Slytherin broomsticks to ensure Gryffindor would win the match, and Peter his bet with Justice Rhoades? The list went on and on, getting worse and worse as the years went by. Although he had no clue how Maria Todile had taken him to the Leaving Ball. That one was beyond him. But then, Maria was a Slytherin. Not quite as pretty as Kathie, but good-looking enough.   
  
And he had found himself _enjoying_ her company. That was what was almost scary. Now, he blushed slightly, remembering some times post-Hogwarts when he had, well, _really _enjoyed her company. And the fact that his friends had glanced at her askance, even James, who would accept nearly anyone, seemed to only add to her charm.   
  
For a while. Peter started becoming more and more aware that Maria was getting to be her old domineering, disagreeable self. And that she was starting to get a little meaner. And more distant.  
  
Next thing he knew, one night, he had Death Eaters knocking at his door.  
  
*  
  
It had been a busy day. Peter had been driven half to insanity, Barty Crouch was on the rampage, and as his secretary, it got passed on to himself. To tell the truth, Peter couldn't help but be a little frightened of Crouch, with the frantic gleam of his eyes when he campaigned against the Dark Side, the cruel set of his face when he saw people kill; the lack of any empathy when someone cried or struggled with emotion.  
  
"Buck up, Pettigrew," Alaham Lestrange jeered at the sensitive novice still struggling for credibility. At least, intimidation was the motive behind the taunting Peter believed at the time.  
  
Alastor Moody had happened to overhear one of these needlings. He had been glowering at Lestrange for several weeks detestfully and probably could have used any excuse to contradict him. "Don't know but if Pettigrew's right at time. Now don't glare at me in that tone of voice, Crouch, for me speaking my mind. I want to make our world as safe as possible - and there are some good liars out there, mightily good liars. And then there are some completely innocent, being condemned to a private hell as they're prodded for information when they have none, or accused while innocent. A person can only take so much before -" He made a movement with his forefinger across his neck.  
  
"Very poetical," Crouch retorted coldly. "Sounds like something Millry would say."  
  
Peter could have sworn to overheard Moody mutter: "And Patty has thrice the sense you do." Aloud, he continued: "And you expect people hanging in the balance to remain loyal to you and your cause if they're mistreated?" Moody had glanced sideways at Peter, who believed Moody was referring to the case of the Turpins and the Dolohovs.   
  
In all, it was a tiring day, and Peter was happy to go to his home in Godric Hollow that night, considering visiting Serendipity but discarding that idea. He was turning over many thoughts Moody, Crouch, and Lestrange had instilled in his head that day and didn't want to have to explain to any of his friends there why he was so quiet. Instead he turned the radio on softly and cooked a quick dinner, planning to use the evening to organize some more correspondence that Crouch was on his back to do.  
  
Peter had set up rolls of parchment on the table and was wetting his quill when he heard a knock on the door. He turned his radio up one notch, feeling a bit lazy to answer it. If it were any of his friends, they'd know just to come in. Sirius, especially, rarely bothered with such formalities as knocking.   
  
There was another knock, and Peter sighed, screwing the inkstand again. He really didn't feel like entertaining. Perhaps it was just Linda on her supreme dignity.  
  
"Yes, who's there?" he asked, hand on the lock of the door.   
  
"Oh… some visitors," a measured voice replied.  
  
Somehow, Peter felt a little spooked, but retorted calmly (it was probably only James or Sirius trying to pull something or another): "That I know. Anything more specific?"  
  
"Open up, Peter Pettigrew," another, lower, more raspy voice ordered, drawing out the name mockingly. Peter had never much liked it himself. Snape and Avery and Wilkes - particularly the latter - had never, ever missed an opportunity to cast it up to him, and it got annoyingly tiresome.   
  
This was during the reign of the Dark Lord, and Peter was no idiot. "If I cannot get a name, I shall owl the Office of Harassment. Good night, sirs," he called through the keyhole. Warily, he pulled his wand out and placed a few Protection Charms on the door.   
  
"Aw, Petey's putting extra _spells_ on the door… is the little Gwyffiedor scared?" yet another voice sneered. Peter wondered uneasily how many were there.  
  
"Quit it," the first voice told him. It was a cultured and dangerous voice. "Peter is our esteemed acquaintance, isn't he?"   
  
"No, Peter is not," Peter retorted blandly. He had always been blunt. "Or at least to my knowledge."   
  
"And Mr. Pettigrew," the first voice continued "would never think of adding one more Protection Spell to the door, turning, and using the Floo Network to one of his friend's houses, leaving us out here cold, would he? No, I don't believe the polite, easygoing Peter would ever be quite so rude."  
  
The polite, easygoing Peter could and would. Adjusting one bolt discreetly, he turned and began to twirl his wand to Apparate. He wouldn't go to any of his friends' residences; if he were traced, as some Dark Wizards were rumoured to be able to do, then he'd only endanger his friends, and Peter would never want that. He did know of a deserted plain that few others knew of from childhood travels, however, and was planning to go straight there.   
  
Suddenly, there was a smooth creaking and clicking behind him. The word "_Apperio_" died in Peter's throat as his carefully charmed door slid deftly off it's hinges, moved forward, still upright, into the house, and then leveled to it's side as it flew higher than Peter's head to the back wall, where it hit the paint with a soft thud.  
  
_They are going to attack me; I am in such big trouble… I knew working for Crouch wasn't a good idea!… I am so badly dead…  
_  
Peter stared for a moment at the dark-clad figures behind the door, who now carelessly stepped into his house. Peter, Lily, and Remus had once went on a little "errand" for Dumbledore shortly after graduation, the first of many, and that one had been the closest Peter had gotten so far to losing his life and the circle of Death Eaters - and so he recognized the black uniform and concealing masks. _Oh, yes. Quite dead. _  
  
Amazing how dry wit refused to fail one at a moment like this.  
  
There were four of them, in a one-two-one format. The one in front, closest to a very frightened Peter, was obviously the leader, and, he suspected, the one with the smooth, clever voice. One of the ones behind him was the tallest and most intimidating by look, but Peter had a shrewd suspicion he hadn't said a word outside the door. The one next to him had a swarthy sort of stockiness to him. The last was shorter than the tallest but taller than the leader and quite thin, still, he seemed to be last in pickling order.   
  
"Oh, dear," the leader said with a click of the tongue. "Mr. Pettigrew proved me wrong, I'm afraid. Ah, well, likely it'll be the last time."  
  
_That death omen is much clearer than anyone Trelawney ever pointed out, somehow… I've just got my life in order and escaped my father… I don't want to die right now, of all times! _"I'll disappoint you again and again; I don't care what you threaten me with!" Peter told him with trademark Gryffindor bravado, perfected over years of being bullied.   
  
"_Threaten_?" the leader of the Death Eater quartet said with apparent surprise. "I plan to do nothing of the sort, Peter. I merely have a proposition to make."  
  
"And I know exactly what the price of refusing is. I'll take it now," Peter snapped recklessly - fear had impacted all common sense. Lily had noted once that both Peter and Sirius were prone to blocking out fear by living on instinct. But the ever loyal James had replied: "But, Lil dear, isn't that the same for us all?"  
  
"Goodness gracious," the leader remarked innocently, and Peter noted the irony of the phrase coming from a Death Eater's mouth. "I thought you had more sense, Mr. Pettigrew, Ministry sense applies here. Don't refuse until you listen…"  
  
"I won't do anything evil," Peter stated clearly and firmly, wondering where he had gotten his sudden bravery. He didn't muse on it - if he was going to die refusing to join their side, he needed lots of adrenaline to block out all fear. _Don't give in!_  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Peter's Return (2)

There was a trollish chuckle from the two men who had come in together. The leader whirled his head around for an instant. "Both of you - quit! What an impression you're making on the valuable Mr. Pettigrew!"  
  
_Valuable Mr. Pettigrew…_ there was a phrase Peter, used to being snapped at to "pay attention", "get it through his thick skull", and "hurry up already!", rarely heard. Sirius was always being told: "Black, shut up, slow down". Peter was always told just the opposite. It wasn't that he wasn't clever; he had a lot of worldly wisdom and a razor-sharp wit. But rarely had he been able to understand the complications of magic or arithmetic or finesse in sports - Peter preferred the "give it all" approach instead of the ones coaches tried to adapt him to: "Use your head". It was enough to calm him for just a moment, but the "adrenaline" was still there at the surface, ready to fuse.   
  
The leader, who looked suspiciously like Rihaldt Baddock, come to think of it - _don't think, Peter, don't think _- turned back to Peter carelessly. "My apologies, Mr. Pettigrew. Now, you were saying that you 'won't do anything evil'. Care to elaborate, Peter?"  
  
It was unnerving, how Baddock kept saying his name. "I. Won't. Do. Anything. Evil." Peter spat each word slowly and deliberately, letting his anger grow. "Which part _don't_ you understand?"  
  
The stocky one made a move toward Peter before restraining himself at a sharp glance from Baddock. "Evil," Baddock mused. "Hmm. I'm confused, Peter - what's evil?"  
  
If Baddock's civil addresses were unnerving, this was a total shock. Peter felt himself reeling as this question sunk in. "E-Evil is anything - anything wrong."  
  
"Wrong?"  
  
"Yeah, you know," Peter sneered. "_Wrong_? Let me see, cruelty, taking lives, taking what's not rightfully yours, torturing living things, defying the government that's for the common good of us all, oh, what else? Vandalism, rape, murder, raiding… there's a goodly long list of things that are _wrong_ that are probably in _your_ creed."  
  
"Gracious, Mr. Pettigrew," Baddock - it was Baddock, wasn't it? - said mildly. "You really must watch that temper of yours. We might have expected it from some of your more… temperamental… friends, but never you. One of the reasons you were so much more important to us than they were."  
  
_More_ important than the great James and Sirius? That was a new one…_"Perhaps if you applied yourself more - did you ever take a good look at the work Black and Potter do?" _  
  
_"I don't understand it… even when partnered with Sirius Black, he couldn't perform the countercurse for the Climatic Curse if his life depended on it…"  
  
"Yes, yes, Randolph Potter's son is brilliant with those, isn't he?… yes, yes, I agree… oh, no, not all - that Peter Pettigrew can never seem to reach up to that level…"  
_  
But it was true. Sirius might have passed his Defence Against the Dark Arts exams while half-asleep (and during the later teenager years, that happened a good bit) but he couldn't keep his temper if his "life depended on it".   
  
Hmm.   
  
_Peter, they're trying to fool you - you've been over this a million times; this is exactly what those trainers were trying to prevent you to believe._ "How nice," Peter said coolly, although it fell a little flatter than his other contradictions. "That's probably the worse compliment I've ever been paid, but thank you kindly for the effort."  
  
Baddock considered him a moment. "Say, Peter?"  
  
Peter refused to reply.  
  
"If we were, say, from the Ministry, or Gringotts, or Hogwarts, or the Filbuster, or even some down-trodden little quill-maker shop, and we had told you all this, trying to see if you'd join our cause, you'd've been considerably warmed up, wouldn't you've? You'd be flattered, wouldn't you?"  
  
There was no point in saying "no"; it was true, and Peter's adrenaline - something had happened to it. He was bargaining for time now. "Yes."  
  
"So why aren't you with us?"  
  
"Remember that little 'evil' thing I mentioned?"  
  
"Ah. Yes. Doing 'wrong'; I do remember indeed, Mr. Pettigrew. You even gave me a list of what sorts of things are considered wrong, which I'm quite grateful for your insight on."  
  
"Charmed."  
  
Baddock laughed a false, polite laugh. "What sparkling wit, Mr. Pettigrew! I admit to being wildly envious, my mind can't stretch itself to smaller things such as that - I'm always worried about the bigger picture. Very well. Mr. Pettigrew, you do know that my organization doesn't consider those things 'wrong'."  
  
"Yes. I do." Peter's tone was getting colder and colder.  
  
Baddock reached into his pocket; Peter gripped his wand. Baddock's gaze scanned this and he glanced at Peter almost reproachfully. "I have no inclination to harm you unless I'm forced into self-defence, sir." He pulled out a phoenix talon. "Your powers of observation have always been praised, Peter. Tell me what you see."  
  
"The claw of a poor, helpless, either dead or in very great pain phoenix, which is definitely wrong, too."  
  
"Describe it to me, Peter. Pretend that there is no word to term this as, and describe what it seems to look like."   
  
Peter scowled. This was like a predator playing with its food before destroying it, and Peter didn't like being toyed with. "I don't feel like playing games."  
  
"Just describe it. I'm afraid my colleagues can be a little temperamental so late at night when they're so…hungry." _See? The irony of it all is great. At least I get to be amused the last few moment of my life.   
_  
"It's a dark grey colour; one end is quite pointy and quite sharp. The other end, looking to have been ripped out -" Peter, who hated cruelty (and having a great sympathy since the age of fifteen for very small animals), glared at Baddock accusingly " - is jagged. It's small. It fits in the palm of a hand. It looks a great deal like flint. It's a good few centimeters long. It's in a curved, portion of an 'O' shape." Peter looked up from the talon to Baddock and scowled. "Good enough?"  
  
"Very good, Peter. That seems to be what I see, as well." He paused for a moment. Death Eaters liked to be dramatic. "Do you think what an ant sees would be quite the same?"  
  
Peter scowled. "I see where this is going; please don't undermine my intelligence in that matter, _sir_."   
  
"Ah. My apologies. But would it be?"  
  
Peter closed his eyes an instant, scared, not knowing what to do or what to pretend to do. "Yes, an ant's view would be different." His voice sounded smaller, weaker, from the hesitation. _No, I'm not defeated…!_  
  
"Yes." Baddock smiled triumphantly. "Does that mean the ant is _wrong_?"  
  
Peter sighed. "No. I see what you're doing; the view depends upon who looks at it."  
  
"No, wait, wait… I'm taking it a step further. Is _your_ view of right and wrong correct? Or just for you?"  
  
Peter didn't reply.   
  
"Does that mean that, in our case, our views may be correct as well?"  
  
Peter was silent.  
  
"Peter, Peter. Don't give yourself a headache over this. Mightn't you at least listen to our views for a while? I'm sure you'd think this over fairly…"  
  
Peter had to wonder why on earth they _would_ think murder was right, he had to admit. If he could find out safely, why, that almost wasn't a bad idea. Just to get into the mind of the enemy, after all…   
  
An hour later, Peter found himself sitting down at a table with Death Eaters over a social tea, having been listening raptly to Baddock, hearing his closing sentence:  
  
"Good and evil are an illusion, Peter. There is only power, and those who are too weak to see and seek it - and those who are not. Your friends are too weak to. Will you be as well?"  
  
When the quartet of Death Eaters were showed to the door docilely shortly afterward, Peter locked it in a daze. Staring about at the table his guests had been sitting at, he realized he felt awfully odd. Different.   
  
Enlightened…   
  
*  
  
He repeated it to himself fervently as climbed the staircase to the second floor. Thankfully the doctrine had returned to him again; he had been in shock for the past week. "Good and evil are an illusion. There is only power, and those who are too weak to see and seek it - and those who are not."  
  
"I can't feel pity for Lily and James - they _were_ too weak to see it, they were!" he continued adamantly, or as adamantly as he could considering he was mumbling to himself. "Prongs, sorry, in fact, you were rather one of the best friends I ever had, but you were blinded by idealistic ideas. You should have listened to the Death Eaters when they talked to you. Lil, I wish I could believe your act of playing big sister to me. It was nice, I admit, it was nice to think someone cared about me that much. But Muggles are filth, and you were one, too. There's no such thing as a Muggle-born witch." He had been taught the last one by Baddock and Lucius Malfoy by the teaching tool of Cruciatus Curses - many of them. Peter knew to deal with that pain; that was part of the game.   
  
"Baddock was my sponsor, he explained it all to me," he continued, almost as if excusing himself to Lily. That was stupid, almost James-like, but it came sort of naturally as well. "Death wouldn't hurt you; you weren't worthy of it… you'd be better off then. And our world had to be rid of you. It is better now, Lily, isn't it? Isn't it?…  
  
"Just look at your other 'friends'. None of your other friends told you the truth, that you didn't deserve to exist… And looked how they turned out, Lil! Look how they turned out! There was the good, great, brilliant, charming, drop-dead handsome Sirius - did you see him, Lil, Prongs? I did. He didn't seem so sparkling that night. He's rotted away; he's insane. You _saw_ him! The blundering _idiot_, spent too much time attached to the hip of idealists like James! And yet it could have all been prevented, had he thrown off the brainwashing ideas of good and evil off. He was brilliant; he'd've climbed the ladder of the Death Eaters within seconds! And look! Everyone believes he was anyway; the Light Side can't win no matter which way they play!  
  
"And Lil, what of your precious, caring, trustworthy, intelligent Remus? He's denying his true nature and what use he has. Baddock explained that to me, too, he said…" Peter frowned to himself. Twelve years of Scabbers had annoying played tricks with his mind; "what Baddock said", the doctrine he had committed to memory painstakingly, seemed to have faded, and all the while he was trying to repeat it other memories kept bursting into his mind - Lily, the pretty, innocent redhead young girl smiling brightly at him as she gave him a hand as he struggled with his luggage… James, face jaunty and bright, offering a hand into the boat he and Sirius were already inside of… Sirius, grinning wickedly, gathering his unsuspecting roommates in the dead of night with a sudden brilliant plan for revenge on Professor Zambia… Remus, smiling shyly, still disbelieving, as Peter returned it encouragingly - "C'mon, we better catch with Jay and Sirius, else we'll be late, Rem"… Linda, hiding a smirk as she pointed out the star on the map Peter was looking for as suddenly both ducked, grabbing each other instinctively as an unapologetic Sirius threw an Exploding Bonbon their way… Sammy, with a look of unbounded joy, crying "I'll get you, Pete, you've got about two seconds to live!" as she dove for a broomstick to chase her quarry… Bella, her face utterly confused and near tears, before Peter softly clasped her hand - "Here, Bel, I'll show you over, ignore those idiot Slytherins, they're all hot air…" - and the nice feeling within him as Bella's practically miserable face brightened in gratitude…  
  
_Forget that, Pettigrew, they decided not to join your side, remember? _Amazing how little details he seemed to have forgotten sprang up on him now… Think, now! He found a memory of a hard-faced Baddock and concentrated on it -   
  
"That's right," he muttered unconvincingly to anyone but himself, "if werewolves don't have the sense to use their abilities for our Master's service, they _are_ just dumb beasts, if they're not able to see… you were nearly as idealistic as James, Rem, but where exactly did it get you? That was a sweet little story you told to the kids to win their trust, but most of it's your own fault - and your life for the past decade or whatever could have been drastically different if you weren't so bloody stubborn, thinking you could make those idiots who call themselves the "Light Side" one day trust you…"  
  
Peter fingered the wand in his pocket. "At least you were good for something," he whispered grimly. In his hand was a Damasky - known to the "Light" fools as a Dark Copy - of Re - the werewolf's wand. Of course, having to do it in the splitest of seconds, it hadn't gone completely without a hitch. Like most advanced magic Peter had learned from the Death Eaters (known as "Dark Magic" to those idealists), the first time Peter had tried it, it had embarrassing side effects. Twelve years ago, cornered by Sir - Black, he had attempted the Killing Curse and ended up blowing apart the Muggle street. Last week, he had sent some sort of weird explosion in Ron's direction. Peter felt a slight twinge of guilt; Ron wasn't all that bad, especially compared to Percy… but that was the price to pay at times for the game of power. And Ron was one of those idealists, too.   
  
Peter felt a bit better. The words were coming back to him. He had something to cling to, to hold on to. He slumped against the wall, resting his eyes.  
  
*  
  
Peter had been five when his father died, and about seven when his uncle Partin came to live with him and his mother.   
  
"Peter, dear," his mother had warned him fretfully from her bed, where she was resting, surrounded by every medicine known to the wizarding world, "your uncle Partin is a little… particular. But he's doing us a great favour, so I want you to be nice and cooperative, okay?"  
  
Peter nodded solemnly. "Is he Dad's brother?" Then he wished he hadn't asked, because, as usual when Dad was mentioned, Mum's eyes filled heavily with tears. He shifted uncomfortably until Mum recovered herself.  
  
"Yes, this is your father's brother," Mum said in a broken sort of voice.   
  
Peter winced; that voice usually made him think of silverware grating on porcelain. "Sure, Mum," he said, trying to sound as cheerful and reassuring as possible, "I'll be good. I promise." He slipped from the room as quickly as possible, deciding that he might as well live up to that promise by stopping for a second to run a brush through his hair. He'd have to show Uncle Partin in, after all.   
  
Then he ran quickly into Mum's quiet writing room, which doubled as a library, and also happened to be the room Peter spent more time in than the whole rest of the house combined - and that included where he slept (since usually he could be found asleep in there with a book in hand anyway… although it was rare that he would fall asleep over a book). He loved this room; he always felt better just by going into it.   
  
Only stopping to check the mantel place to see if there might be a picture of Uncle Partin (there wasn't), Peter scanned the much-loved bookshelves. Most had too many big words (although he was rather proud of himself for wrestling through _Six Ashwinder Eggs_, even if he didn't understand too much of it), but there were several that he could read and had time and time again… not those babyish picture books, showing very primitive pictures of young witches and wizards with baubles that had no use Peter could discern and miniature broomsticks that didn't look as though they could last through one week. Peter felt very old and mature when his mother showed him those.  
  
He made a grab for _Purple, Red, and Green_, which was his very favourite "chapter book". Rivan and Easle were his two greatest heroes in the world, and he almost never tired of their short adventures in that little village school by the pond. (_Purple, Red, and Green_ had accumulated in a sort of never-ending series, getting more and more modern as the ninety-year old author got new ideas from the children in her own village. Rivan and Easle had been nine and eight for about sixty years now, and had gone through perhaps fourteen Christmases, although few readers seemed to care until after they got a little older. Peter's mother had handed him one of these books after he finished his O.W.L.s and was waiting for results when he had trouble sleeping due to anticipation. It was a well-meant attempt, but Peter had nearly died of humiliation as he re-read it. "I used to _like_ these?" "There's nothing wrong with that," Mrs. Pettigrew assured him, "they're excellent books." Peter was never able to agree with her.)   
  
Mum always tried to convince him to read his books aloud, so that Peter would develop better speaking skills - to make his voice and words clearer, to get rid of that annoying stutter he had not yet outgrown - but Peter never was able to take the slowness of it. Reading silently was so much _faster_. "Chapter First," his eyes scanned quickly, desperate to get to the chilling climax, when Easle decided whether to stick up with her brother, who had snubbed her, or go with the Bullies (whose titles always seem spelled with capitals). "Rivan was in a great hurry, for today was the day that Madam Gordon would call on him to report on what he had found during his study of the pond. But as usual, Easle was yelling about her lost satchel…"  
  
Gone. Peter wasn't about to come about out his revive. He was a chapter in…  
  
" 'But what if you don't make it home in time?' Easle said quietly.  
  
'Never mind that,' Rivan said. He turned again to Andurm. 'I'll be there. Do you think we'll really see the ghost Richard?'  
  
Andrum nodded. 'Yeah - didn't Cassidy tell you about the time we were there, last spring, and we had hid behind the firewood? Well, we were just waiting for Cass's pet salamander, when this big silvery thing came right behind us, and - '"  
  
"Ruthina didn't tell me that I would be so rudely greeted when I arrived," a curt voice announced.  
  
Peter dazedly pulled himself from the book. This part, in which Richard had scared them, was one of his favorites - but there was no denying the cold voice. He looked up and saw a very tall man framed in the doorway. His deep brown robes and eyes, coupled with his height, were very intimidating.   
  
"H-Hello," he managed, "I - er - I'm s-sorry, I d-d-didn't h-hear you kn-knock… I'm sorry, M-Mum t-t-told me t-to wait f-for you - Oh! I m-mean, erm," he finished timidly, "if you're Uncle Partin, t-that is."  
  
"I'm Partin Pettigrew," his uncle said. "Where's Ruthina?"  
  
"M-Mum's in h-her - her room. Up-upstairs," Peter finished lamely, mentally disgusted with this impression.   
  
"Shouldn't she be downstairs doing something?" Partin demanded.  
  
"N-" Peter was nonplussed. Technically, no. Mum was an off-and-on invalid (or that was the terming their medi-wizard had given them with a slight chuckle) and today was one of her "on" days. But he had a hard time telling Uncle Partin "no". "Er, I m-m-m-mean… y-yes, I-I guess… well, I… I-I'm not s-s-sure."  
  
"Slow down and speak properly," Uncle Partin ordered sharply, eyes narrowing. "That's no way to talk."   
  
An odd knot was forming in Peter's stomach. He pushed down the sudden desire to cry, which would go against the pride of his newly seven-year-oldness. "Y-Yes, sir."  
  
Uncle Partin didn't look entirely pleased but let the slight hesitation pass for the moment. "Well, take me to her, boy, I can't very well know where everything is from the start."  
  
Somehow, it was a relief to know that he wasn't all-knowing. It gave Peter the courage to put the book down and hesitatingly get up and walk past Uncle Partin. "I-It's j-just over h-here -"  
  
"Watch your speech!"  
  
Peter swallowed and took a deep breath. Speaking slowly and carefully, he tried again: "Mum's just right upstairs here. It's on the right side." He glanced at Uncle Partin to see if he was satisfied; Uncle Partin's face didn't show the least bit of affirmative or negative.   
  
Things went rather glum from there. Peter wasn't sure how long Uncle Partin would say. (Mrs. Pettigrew may have said, but he had been seven and any length of time past "tomorrow" or "next week" is an eternity that you really can't comprehend.) It seemed like he might stay forever, but Peter found himself finding hope in that Uncle Partin was not pleased with anything in their home.   
  
He thought Mum (whom he always referred to as "Ruthina", a little to Peter's discomfort - most people called her "Ruth") lazy and indolent. Often he ordered her to do this or that, to take more responsibility on home chores or with Peter. He fired the witch who had come in four times a week to cook and clean, saying that Ruthina had to conserve money and could do it herself.   
  
Mum's health grew erratic after this; it grew much worse and then better, on and on for a while, but by the time Peter was in his third year it was decidedly bad. Peter most missed the fact that after a little while with Uncle Partin, the laughing light left her blue eyes, she rarely laughed, and she stopped telling bedtime stories. Likely Uncle Partin had forbid them, anyway.  
  
His uncle also had an undying attempt to "raise Peter properly". This seemed to consist of breaking him of his stutter, getting him to play outdoors more often, trying to improve his memory with lengthy verbal examinations each night, and taking him to Ministry cocktail parties, among a few other things. Peter found most of it tedious stuff.  
  
He soon learned to fear speaking in Uncle Partin's presence, and since Uncle Partin was always around, Peter went through several years before Hogwarts where he didn't talk at all. When his mother and uncle called attention to his silence, which Peter hadn't consciously considered before, Peter soon make a game of seeing how many days he could go without talking. His record was seven and a half days.   
  
Uncle Partin thought it perfectly unnatural that a boy Peter's age should spent so much of his time reading.   
  
Mum said dryly the first time she heard this: "You mean Peter? He spends all days out of doors terrorising the neighbours with the stray Crup that goes around. He vandalises the houses of little old witches by breaking windows and chalking them. He flies at night to attract the Muggle Awareness Protection Squad and then skives off to get them in trouble. Don't stop him from reading, Partin."  
  
Uncle Partin was not amused and made it clear. He kept a firm hold on Peter's reading time, even charming the library so it would repel him. Peter thought this a high calamity and tried many things to counteract this, one of them accumulating in getting a Crup (perhaps inspired from Mum's words) and setting it to go into the library and fetching him a book. Perhaps a Kneazle would've been better - the Crup chewed up everything in the library. Uncle Partin had thoroughly scolded him for that incident. Peter also grew into a habit of causing various others bits of mischief in rebellion. Uncle Partin never wavered, and while Peter wasn't happy with the loss of his books, he had to admit that causing mayhem was actually sort of fun, when you didn't get caught.  
  
He hated the "history lessons" Uncle Partin gave every night, which nearly all seem to begin with: "When Grindelwald and his Gewhtle were looking for followers around Europe…" Peter soon learned to obediently digest it, and then promptly forgot all of it. It all sounded very political and dull. But woe betide him if he couldn't answer a question. Uncle Partin believed in verbal and corporal punishment of many kinds.   
  
Peter had met interesting people at those stuffy get-togethers, however. James Potter, for one.   
  
  



	8. Peter's Return (3)

It had been a boring party near Red Lion, a hidden Muggle-wizard hybrid town. Uncle Partin seemed to be having a lovely time. Nothing more interesting, Peter reflected dully, than in discussing bloomslang taxes and centaur offices with a bunch of prats who were as empty-minded as yourself.   
  
Peter was suddenly wondering if he could sneak upstairs. This was being held at a Ministry member's house - and they might have books. Peter felt no moral pricks at this idea; since he had been exiled from his love, he was desperate and would read anything he could get his hands on. That included Muggle literature that his mother had forbidden - _The Lord of the Rings_ had been a perfectly fine read, if a little lengthy, and _The Three Musketeers_, at least the first few pages that Peter had been able to cram in while his mother visited a neighbour, had been very interesting.   
  
He glanced around. A few years of sneaking around had made him a small expert on going about unnoticed, and no one was paying attention to him anyway. Satisfied that no one was about to come over and inquire about his mother (and probably exclaim how much like her he looked, into the raw bargain), he casually crept to the staircase.   
  
Climbing it would be more difficult, as there was any chance Uncle Partin might see, but he finally seemed engaged in conversation with a rather stunning witch. Peter smirked to himself. _Hopefully he'll have the sense to pay attention… _He crept upwards and to the landing that was hidden from the view of the open floor below. It wasn't a terribly big house.   
  
Most rooms were bedrooms and such, but finally he found the study, which was lined with books. Finding that most were a bit too technical - Peter liked fiction - he instead tried to sneak into one of the children's playrooms.   
  
"Hullo," someone said brightly as he went in.  
  
Peter froze. Uh-oh. Was this one of the host's children? He ran through excuses in his head frantically. "H-Hello." He turned, looking for the owner of the voice. No one seemed to be in the room.   
  
"What're you doing in here?" the voice continued, sounding amused.  
  
"Er, um, sorry if I intruded. I was just bored and -"  
  
"Amen to that!" the voice laughed. "Dull as Sesame's tomb down there, isn't it? 'Oh, hello, dear, haven't seen you since last time we sat through this'."  
  
Peter laughed, a little nervously. "That is what it sounds like a lot." He wondered if he dared ask the voice if he had read_ The Life of Sesame Santrax_. "Erm, I hope this doesn't sound rude," he said, as politely as he could, "but where are you?"  
  
The reply was another laugh. "Let's see. Red Lion. England. Europe. Earth. I haven't studied Astronomy yet. Universe."  
  
Peter realised the voice was from above him and glanced upward. "Oh!" he jumped.  
  
A boy, perhaps his age, was hanging from the chandelier by his knees. His untidy black hair was hanging upside down, thick glasses dangling from an ear. Peter was caught a little off-guard, and the boy apparently knew it.  
  
"On the ceiling, too," his companion grinned. "I've seen you at these thick affairs before."  
  
"I guess so. My uncle takes me. I'm Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"Your uncle is Partin Pettigrew of the Magical Law Enforcement?"  
  
Peter nodded. "Your father is Randolph Potter of the same department?" The hair was recognisable.   
  
"Yeah. I'm James. Forget the whole formality thing."  
  
Peter had to laugh. James Potter, still hanging loosely, looked about as informal as possible.   
  
"I'm offended," James gasped, sounding truly angry. "Laughing at me?"  
  
Peter reddened heavily. "N-no! Sorry, I didn't mean -"  
  
James grinned. "Calm down; I was only teasing."  
  
"Why're you up there?" The question popped out before Peter could help it, but he really was curious, and James made him feel safe. He never felt safe asking questions of Uncle Partin. Truth be told, James looked as though he _wanted_ to be fielded questions so he could talk. And Peter wished he would get down. His neck was hurting.  
  
"I was bored," James explained. "It's boring down there; nothing to do at all. No one fun was there. Nick Chase is home with dragonpox, he couldn't come, and Sirius Black isn't here, his dad won't bring him any more, and Sammy Orr hasn't come in a while, and Drake Edwards has a Gobstone tournament, and Eliza Farrell is down there and all she does is tell me to behave. My sisters had to stay home because Da' only wanted to bring me as the oldest son."  
  
James looked a little put out. "It's very unfair that Annie and Chrissie don't get to come, just because they're girls. Annie always wants to come with me and Chrissie wants to come with Da' and a lot of times they have to stay home. How come so many times it's 'polite' to only bring one child, and then _only_ the oldest boy in the family? And how come only for Ministry families? And how come when we do come, there's no use for us here but to answer stupid questions?"  
  
Peter wondered for just an instant if too much blood had run into James's head. That's just the way things always were. "So you hung from a chandelier?"   
  
James grinned again, his anger at the injustice gone. "Because I was bored and I wanted to scare someone. Sorry you happened to be my victim. I have a bit of a problem, though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I can't get down."  
  
James spoke very matter-of-factly, and Peter had to smile. It sounded ridiculous.   
  
"Well, it's really nothing to laugh about!" James protested, although he was laughing himself as he spoke. "I really can't. If I drop on the floor everyone below'll hear and Dad'll kill me. Not unless I swing onto the bed or something. And I don't want to bother anyone. The people who're actually having fun - let them. Besides, they'll tell Dad anyway, and there I am again."  
  
"Can't you swing onto the bed?"  
  
"Just trying to think if there's a better way. I might break their chandelier. Why're you here?"  
  
"I'm bored too. I wanted to read something."   
  
James lit up. "Did you find anything?"  
  
Peter felt excited; perhaps this was someone who understood his love of books, finally. "There were these long boring nonfiction things in the library -"  
  
"Really, really heavy? Sorry for interrupting," James added quickly. "But big?"  
  
"Um - yes."  
  
Peter soon found himself scampering down the hall again and again, carrying as many books over as possible. Following James's competent directions, soon a sort of large platform with makeshift steps had been constructed. He would tumble off onto the high, firm stack of books, and then carefully step off the edges with the miniature levels Peter had made.   
  
"I'm off to break my bones; I'm off to break my bones…" James sang carelessly.   
  
"Ready?" Peter asked worriedly.  
  
James actually hesitated one moment. Then, without warning, he released his knees from the chandelier and landed on his side. Peter cried out in horror as the books slid, sending James rolling off what would have been several feet downward.   
  
By some amazing miracle, James rolled of the books to the bed. It hadn't looked possible and he hadn't tried to do it.  
  
But James's life had always seemed a bit charmed.   
  
Peter rushed over to him, hopping over the toppled novels. James was sprawled on the bed, ridiculously large, black eyeglasses askew. He raised his head experimentally.   
  
"I'm a little light-headed," he confessed with a grin, "but that was some trip, wasn't it?" Not quite the word Peter would've used, but… "Come on, we better hurry and put those books back if we don't want to get caught!"   
  
Right on cue, a man's voice called from halfway up the stairs: "James? Is that you?"   
  
James sort of winced, still smiling happily. "My da'," he mouthed to Peter. Quickly straightening his robes, he walked to the stairwell, and Peter followed hesitantly, keeping out of Mr. Potter's sight. "Yes, Da', I'm right here."  
  
"What're you doing now?" Mr. Potter's voice was a resigned amusement.   
  
"I tripped over the fringe of one of these rugs; sorry if I disturbed anyone." Peter could practically _hear_ James's charming smile.   
  
"Well," (and now Peter could practically hear the rolled eyes), "try to trip a little more quietly, all right? Keep out of the bedrooms and such."  
  
"Sure thing, Da'."  
  
Peter had a sudden wondering of what it would be like to have a father you could beat around the bush with like that. For a moment, a terribly green envy of James Potter filled him deeply. Then he shook himself, partly because James had turned back and was looking at him curiously.   
  
"Peter? Can you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, sorry."  
  
"Not at all. Ready to rebuild the Leaning Tower of Pisa?"  
  
Peter was. And he heard a lot; of James's two sisters (Chrissie sounded a bit annoying to Peter, and Annie sounded a little too excitable), of the Stag Fair in Red Lion (Peter had never attended the Stag Fair since Uncle Partin came to live with them), of the Potter estate, Sandy Echoes (Peter wondered if Mum was ever going to name_ their_ house), of many of the other Ministry children who often attended the gatherings (Peter had met some of them briefly, but apparently James knew the innermost life secrets of them all. Peter didn't find it hard to believe people would confide in him so easily). James did like to talk, but he also liked to ask questions, many of which Peter sidestepped.  
  
"And what sort of mischief were you causing all that time you disappeared?" Uncle Partin demanded as they left several hours later.   
  
"Just catalouging their library," Peter replied automatically, earning himself a long lecture on Respectfulness To Adults and Respectfulness To The Host's Belongings. He and James never had to "catalougue" any more collections, but they did meet several other times before both turned eleven and received their letters to Hogwarts, many a time doing something that was taboo in polite society. But had it not been for James's charm, it's likely his days in polite society would have been numbered anyway!  
  
*  
  
Suddenly Peter was jerked from memory by a none-too-quiet opening of the door downstairs. He knew this wasn't good instinctively, few living could enter the Protection Spells without breaking them completely, and those who could enter were either bent on killing him or "bringing him to justice" - a complete oxymoron in Peter's book, but probably not in Dumbledore's.   
  
A small crackle alerted Peter to the fact that someone had lit up the ground floor. No one spoke, but Peter, with his remarkable powers of observation and conclusion, could tell it was two people. _Three guesses and the first four don't count…_  
  
Something indistinct was muttered, and the bottom stair creaked. _Trapped…_  
  
Peter ran to the window and found it shut tightly with several charms. Cursing, he turned to the door - the footsteps were right outside.  
  
Peter transformed within a blink into Wormtail. He scurried quickly around a pair of familiar feet as quietly as possible into Sammy's room. It boasted a window. _As usual little Peter was left with the last picklings_, he reflected, irrationally forgetting that he had offered in the first place.   
  
"Is he here?"  
  
"Hold on." There was a short pause in which Peter stopped abruptly, not even daring to breathe. "He's here."   
  
Damn werewolf senses. Wormtail knew how to outwit Moony, however, and only hoped it worked on Remus. Quickly he scuttled around two pairs of feet in silent circles, around a few times, trying not to get dizzy. Satisfied from the sounds of it that the two were sufficiently confused, Peter dove for Sammy's room. Transforming, he hopped from the window, which was able to open. I_ was set up, they had been here beforehand_, he realized in disgust, but like the night Baddock had visited him, there was no time to think or worry. Just keep that adrenaline running.   
  
He had been dizzier than he thought. He had entered Lily's room, and jumped from her window, and Lily's window was the one right above the barn. Peter fell through the roof with a sickening, splintering crash. Luckily **(A/N: Not)** he hit a bale of hay and bounced off it to the floor, still with a thud, but with a considerably less painful one.   
  
  
Two _pops_ - Remus and Sirius had Apparated. _Oh boy_, Peter thought dazedly, head still spinning, _I've got it now_. Two very familiar shadowed silhouettes faced him.   
  
There was an instant where no one seemed able to react. Peter, on the floor, glanced up at Sirius and Remus, who stared down at him with cold fury.  
  
It occurred to him how very much taller they were.  
  
Peter hopped up and turned to a glass window. He punched through it immediately, ignoring the cuts in his hands from it, and vaulted out.   
  
"_Stupefy_!" The spell missed, but that meant very little, as Sirius had no inclination to bother with magic. He had stormed over to the window and grabbed Peter's foot as he was nearly out of the window.   
  
Peter squirmed madly, trying to pull away as Sirius yanked him back again and again. Splinters and glass shards ripped at his chest. Sirius was about to break his foot into two. Oh, fun.   
  
Peter kicked as strongly as he could. There were considerable advantages to having a foe that had been living off mice. Sirius was very weak. Then Peter could've hit himself -  
  
_Why not transform, you idiot?!  
_  
Peter followed his own advice and did so, slipping out of Sirius's hands. It meant that the space from the window to the ground was much farther, but that meant little or nothing, seeing as he was at least out of Sirius's grip.   
  
Peter could run more swiftly than Wormtail, but Wormtail could hide easier than Peter.   
  
Wormtail had never run faster.  
  
Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one trying to move quickly. He had to think. He wasn't going to outrun Sirius, who had become Padfoot, or even Remus, who was far stronger than he looked.   
  
Several times he could sense Padfoot far too close for comfort, trailing him._ A dog, of all things_, Peter thought irrationally. _A dog. With four paws and a tracking nose and teeth and the whole bit. _  
  
He tried to reason more clearly. He wasn't going to outrun Padfoot. He was going to have to outwit him. And Peter be damned if he couldn't outwit a man who had spent over a decade in Azkaban.   
  
He doubled back sharply, befuddling Sirius's trail. Yet for an instant he slowed… over a decade in Azkaban.   
  
Peter suddenly saw a laughing thirteen-year-old Sirius, as clear as a photograph, in front of him.   
  
Sirius vanished - that one, at least. But the Padfoot so near him seemed to have merge into him. Peter thought of the week before, how quickly Sirius and Remus had forgiven each other.   
  
_"Forgive me, Remus."  
  
"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend. And will you, in turn, forgive me for thinking you were the spy?"  
  
"Of course…"_  
  
How nice it would've been to ask for the same. Forgiveness. Forgiveness no one was going to offer him. How come those words stood out more clearly in his mind than anything else that night?   
  
_"… shall we kill him together?"  
  
"Yes, I think so."  
  
_Funny, the things one thought of in moments like these -   
  
When Remus was making an absolute honest dive at you, hand inches from his tail!   
  
Cursing himself into the next six lives after this one for letting his mind wander - forgiveness, indeed, as if he needed to be forgiven! - Peter squeaked in alarm. He just missed being captured. Side skirting quickly, he found Padfoot practically nose-to-nose with him. Peter backed again. Padfoot pounced.  
  
There was a sudden fury of "hair, teeth, and eyeballs", which was a favourite expression of James's that Peter had never quite been able to forget (it was the only word to describe the Weasley house at times, particularly the twins' room). Peter squirmed madly as Padfoot's claws reached frantically for him, swiping again and again. He heard a loud cry from Remus. Only then did he realise that Padfoot was attacking Remus just as much as himself; probably more so, since at least he, Peter, was avoiding it. Peter tasted blood.   
  
Peter squirmed from the mess as Padfoot stopped just a minute. He gave a small whine of concern for his friend.   
  
"Where's Peter?" Remus responded breathlessly.   
  
Peter was the most grateful little rat that ever lived. He had bought precious seconds to run. Rustling was audible behind him, Sirius hardly living up to his pick-pocketing (not that he did it often) skills. _He'd deranged, utterly deranged - _  
  
Suddenly, the sound faded. Peter kept running, so near the village, where there would be more places to hide, too tired and relived to wonder what had halted Sirius and Remus's hunt for him.   
  
Just run.  
  
*  
  
  
  



	9. Peter's Return (4) and The Beginning of ...

*  
  
The reason for Peter's safely could be explained quickly, in few words, but for the purposes of the story… well, it will be considerably more words.   
  
Sirius Black felt a restraining hand grab him by a fistful of fur and growled in confusion. Padfoot transformed; Sirius turned sharply, wondering what Remus could be warning him about. "What?"  
  
"Stop; we don't want you caught," Remus Lupin replied.  
  
Sirius immediately made a noise of exasperation and attempted to wrench from his friend's grasp; unfortunately - or perhaps not - Remus was stronger than he looked a kept a good hold of him. Sirius's infamous temper, fueled by the desperation of being _so close_ to Wormtail, flew.  
  
"Do you realise that _he_'s out there?" Sirius spat. "Let me _go_, Remus!"  
  
Remus didn't obey. "Can you Apparate back to Serendipity?"  
  
Sirius was finding it hard to keep his voice quiet. "_Remus_!" he said through clenched teeth and a fruitless jerk. "I - am not - letting him -_ go_!"  
  
"Think of it as prioritising."  
  
"Have you got _your_ priorities mixed up!" Sirius felt as if he could barely stand it. He couldn't very well kill Peter, having practically promising his godson he would not, but he sure as _hell _was going to get the rat where he belonged, and get his name cleared, and be able to take Harry, and not least of all, avenge Lily and James.   
  
And here was Remus - whom Sirius had thought was at least one kindred person he had left - holding him back from that, in his typical aggravating calm manner. Sirius thought he might explode with frustration.   
  
"What?" Remus asked coolly. "Attempt to capture Wormtail now, with everyone having heard that ruckus and having you sent to Azkaban? Whose priorities are we considering?"  
  
Sirius didn't reply and both men tried to stare the other down.  
  
"You don't think," Remus added softly, "that Harry would be heartbroken if his godfather was a vegetable? You're all he has left."  
  
Sirius sighed. Sometimes he really hated when Remus put things in "perspective". On the other hand, Remus had another point - and Sirius had been detained too long already; the rat had gotten far too much of a head start.   
  
"Fine. Can you please let go of me now? I promise to be a good boy."  
  
Remus did so, eying Sirius levelly, but his thoughts were not quite as calm. Not to be selfish about it or anything… but if Sirius was caught, Remus would have lost yet another friend, just when he had discovered The Truth…_ Stop being so self-centered. Good goal, wrong reasons. Think of what Sirius would go through…_ Remus had. The thought of Sirius in Azkaban for twelve years made him feel sick, with underlying sadness and anger and even guilt.   
  
"I want to get him so _badly_, Remus," Sirius whispered, a terrible longing and desperation in his voice. It hurt both of them to hear it.  
  
"I know."  
  
There was a pause. They didn't even appear to exchange a glance as they abruptly Apparated to Serendipity with heavy headaches - and heartaches. So close. _So_ close.   
  
Depressed, neither spoke as they fell into positions of defeat. Remus leaned against the intricately carved wooden banister between the dining and living areas, staring at the floor, eyes nearly hidden by the tilt of his head and the hair he purposefully, if subconsciously, never had gotten cut very short. In a world he was excluded from, he had learned to hide.  
  
Sirius restlessly gripped and rapped the cedar table by turns, knocking his fist against it lightly. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and his angry glances about the room, along with his profile and dark eyebrows, made him look like the murderer he was widely believed to be.   
  
Finally he tired of this and instead sat on a small loveseat in the living room, before jumping from that into an armchair instead. The loveseat had been almost exclusively Lily and James's; Sirius didn't feel he was worthy. More uncomfortable, but he could deal with that. It was whatever-it-was that was gnawing away inside of him that he could not.   
  
"Where d'you think he'll go next?" Sirius asked abruptly, voice dull.  
  
Remus pulled his stare from the corner with effort. "I suppose… I don't know. I keep wondering if he'll go to Voldemort."  
  
"I can't see him having that much _backbone_," Sirius growled.   
  
"Depends on which he thinks is worse - us or him." Remus's use of pronouns was becoming decidedly vague for a schoolteacher, but neither had trouble understanding the other.  
  
"He better hope Voldemort gets him before I do." Sirius's head snapped up with new resolve. "I swear - where is he rumoured to be?"  
  
"Albania."  
  
"I can get to Albania, that's not a problem. It's - hopefully not the Black Forest - when I have to -"  
  
Remus looked up sharply. "No. Absolutely not."  
  
Sirius stood. "You know, _Professor_, I think you've been teaching a bit too long. It's getting really quite annoying. You also don't seem to trust me a bit."  
  
The realisation of those last four words hit both of them. Trust was an important thing. Furthermore, both had been walking on eggshells while working together during the past few days.   
  
"No," Remus said quickly, "it's not that I don't trust you, Padfoot. It's just that you might -"  
  
"Yes, caught, I know," Sirius said wearily, sitting again.   
  
Remus had no such intention of quitting just yet. "No. Sirius Black is not going to be captured."  
  
Somewhere in Sirius where fear of being trapped by hordes of hungry dementors ruled felt incredibly better. The statement showed that Remus was on his side, and the matter-of-fact wording - Remus might have just as well have been teaching a class and stating a simple, clear, and direct fact. The countercurse for the Blinding Hex is _oparusgodium_. Hinkypunks will not attack a specific someone if you carve that person's name on a cucumber and chuck it at them. Grindelwald was defeated in 1945 by Albus Dumbledore. Sirius Black is not going to be captured. But there was also a determined sort of conviction in his voice as well - it seemed to tacitly end with: _or else I'll die trying to prevent it. _  
  
"_I'll_ go to Albania if someone has to," Remus continued.   
  
"Excuse me? Why do_ you_ get all the fun?" Sirius asked with a small grin. It was nice to know he could joke again. The reclaiming of his sense of humour had been a long process, but worth it.   
  
Remus stared. "Sirius?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You have a strange idea of fun."  
  
Sirius smirked. "And here I thought you didn't have one at all." It fell rather flat. Remus didn't appear to be the least bit riled. In fact, his eyes clearly showed that he was lost in thoughts again.   
  
Sirius was pretty put out by this as well. It seemed that the two of them had a problem communicating during the past week. Sometimes they could joke with and rib the other freely, but it always sort of shut off quickly. Sometimes they could still silently agree on something without saying a word; other times they seemed to have lost their method of quiet communication. Often there were long awkward silences where no one knew what to say.   
  
Suddenly a replay of the chase flashed through his mind, and he remembered jumping after Peter, clawing wildly, and hurting Remus. Utterly disgusted with himself for forgetting that, he looked up at his friend instantly.   
  
"Rem - where I hurt you - is it all right?" he asked, sounding alarmed.   
  
Remus lightly traced several red marks on his cheek with his hand. "A few cuts. They're fairly shallow. Nothing to worry about."   
  
"I'm sorry, Moony. I didn't mean to do that."  
  
"Padfoot - it's all right - it's nothing." Remus took a shaky breath, hoping it was a silent one. He had told the truth and didn't blame Sirius a bit. It was the heat of the moment. But on the ground - having the huge Padfoot jumping on him and attacking - for a moment his mind had been sharply drawn to the night he had been attacked and bitten. The image was so sharp and painful that he had yelled. "I'm sorry. The noise I made then was really what the villagers would have heard; what I was worried they might trace to you if we stayed."  
  
Sirius shrugged. He was still a little put out that his chase had been cut short. Remus was absolutely, right, of course, but that didn't help matters.   
  
"You need to go somewhere the dementors won't follow," Remus said. He knew full well Sirius could outwit any person in the world, but dementors were another story.   
  
Sirius made a face. He had thought about that a little, and had come to one memory: the holiday his family had taken to the tropics in the summer before his fifth year. He remembered picking up a piece of useless, obscure information (or so he had thought at the time) along with a lot of other stuff he wasn't too interested from an old native codger. Lethifolds were in the tropics, but dementors couldn't survive there very long, and when they did come, the sunlight weakened their powers.   
  
"Remember old Brahma?"  
  
Remus blinked at this sudden change of tack. "N - Yes - but - why?" The last word was suddenly stern.  
  
Sirius suppressed a grin. Sadly, it wasn't as hard to do as it might have once been. Laughter came slower now, grins were rarer. Sirius didn't notice this change in him, but Remus did. He related what Brahma had told him.  
  
"What an excuse for a holiday," Sirius surmised. He didn't sound too thrilled, however. Jamaica was a pretty far stretch from Surrey, where Harry was.   
  
Remus looked thoughtful. "I never heard that confirmed," he said cautiously at last, "but I never heard it challenged, either. That sounds like the best of our ideas thus far."   
  
Sirius did grin now. "Like going to Mount Everest?"  
  
"Pyramid of Eselilnac?"  
  
"Carquel's stronghold?"  
  
Remus smirked. "Malfoy Manor?"  
  
**(A/N: Forgive the boys. They needed something to discuss the past week, and they weren't always completely serious. Sometimes total goofiness is good at breaking up tension, and you know that Marauder sense of humour.)**  
  
"Yeah. I think this is slightly better." Sirius's favourite idea had been to threaten the Dursleys at wand point to board him, but Remus had seen fit to reject it for some reason. Sirius decided not to bring it up again. Remus's comment about Harry having a vegetable for a godfather had sent a message home. "Now you need an excuse to go to Albania." He growled. "Hopefully the Howlers won't manage all the way there."   
  
Sirius had been none too pleased upon discovering that Remus had been receiving a good couple dozen Howlers after he had left Hogwarts. After meeting up in London, Remus had considered putting a Stunning Spell on Sirius about, well, a couple dozen times. Although secretly he couldn't help but feel a bit better, knowing that Sirius was upset on his behalf. It had been a lot of years since anyone had done that.   
  
"Let it _drop_ about the bloody Howlers."  
  
"Let it _drop_ about the incident in Diagon Alley," Sirius countered smartly.  
  
The "incident in Diagon Alley" had been when the two had crossed paths.   
  
Remus was quiet another moment. (_Merlin's wand_, Sirius thought in slight exasperation, _can he talk anymore without proofreading every word before it comes out of his mouth? We're going to separate soon - less thought, more talk!_) "Sirius, your dad wasn't after me, y'know."  
  
"Yeah, and that's what it looked like," Sirius scowled, words dripping in sarcasm. "That's just why he was punching you in the mouth. I'm sure you were just having a pleasant conversation about the weather."  
  
Remus sighed. "If you had, by any chance, _listened_ before jumping into the fray, you'd've heard him. He was yelling the whole time about _you_, demanding that I tell where you were."  
  
"Oh, great. I knew he must've been friends with Barty Crouch. Now he wants to capture me and send me back to Azkaban. Was this supposed to make me feel better about anything?"   
  
Remus glared. "He wasn't trying to send you back to Azkaban. What I heard was a man who was going mad with the thought of his son being free, but not being able to know where he was or how to talk to him."   
  
Sirius sat stock-still for a moment, digesting this. Then -   
  
"How hard did he hit your head again, Remus?"  
  
Remus's head snapped up. He scowled at his friend. "Take this seriously, Sirius!"  
  
**(A/N: Aren't you proud of me? No serious/Sirius joke. Sirius might have easily said: "That's quite a mouthful, Moony" - in fact, I had to resist the temptation to add it in. But since I'm such a wonderful person - cough, cough, cough…)  
**  
Apparently Sirius did so, for after a considering silence, he returned the scowl. "So I reckon that means that if I hadn't cut in, you'd've told him where I was?"  
  
If Remus had been sitting, he would have jumped up in outrage. As it was, he turned quite red for a pale man. "How could you believe I'd do that? Of course not!"  
  
Sirius did jump from his seat, sweating furiously. He tried with every iota of energy he had to push images of Arisuis Black from his head, without success. After pacing the room once, he turned back to Remus. "So then_ why_ are you suddenly taking his side?"  
  
"I am _not_ taking his 'side'!"  
  
"That's sure what it sounds like."  
  
"You know who you sound like?" Remus shot back coolly.  
  
There was no need to elaborate on whom it was. Both knew precisely whom Remus was referring to. Sirius felt himself literally chill before his temper flamed.   
  
"It must have rubbed off from you; you sound exactly like _your_ father. Cynical, cold, bossy, rude, and unfeeling, if I remember correctly. Bloody hell, you even look a lot like him. Wonder why I never noticed it before."   
  
Sirius and Remus were possibly the masters of the silent glare. They stared each other down lividly.   
  
"I can't stay around all night," Sirius snarled at long last. "We've gotten rather noisy and I wouldn't want to attract anyone who'll spot me and have me arrested."  
  
Remus breathed heavily before replying, watching Sirius rummage in the walkway side closet for a cloak. In his anger, he noticed vindictively that Sirius took his own. "Oh, you finally caught on, have you?"  
  
"Yeah. I want to enjoy my stay in the tropics, so I'll be off." Sirius swept the cloak on. He hadn't lost the trick of looking impressive and even intimidating without even trying. His dark profile, combined with his new thinness, and the swept of the cloak, which didn't look half so threadbare in the dark, _was_ impressive and intimidating. Out of old habit, this drama always came in his spats with Remus, probably born of what both of them knew: Remus had never had the knack of being so melodramatic. It was balanced play, if not fair: Remus was not the sort to not use his own strengths to counter Sirius. "Have fun in Albania."  
  
At the door, Sirius turned on his heel and added innocently: "It's rather chilly down there this summer, if I remember correctly."  
  
Remus didn't bother asking where Sirius got that information. He listened in silence at Sirius's quiet - oh, yes, Sirius was stealthy, no doubt about it, it was the only reason he hadn't been expelled from Hogwarts sixteen times over - barely rustlings, at the barely audible opening of Serendipity's shed and coaxing of Buckbeak.   
  
Serendipity's banister was dark and silent. The night sky was dark and silent. Both men brooded.  
  
*  
  
Peter could hardly believe his luck. Somehow or another, his pursuers had suddenly stopped their chase. Cautiously, Peter made his way to a dark part of the woods nearby, and was forced to transform. After so much excursion, his limbs were dying to be released from their tiny form of Wormtail. Panting and rubbing at a terrible pain in his side, he didn't have the energy to reason out why Sirius and Remus had stopped. They had never quit before their goal was achieved before. He didn't expect them to start now, either.  
  
They'd be back, searching for him again soon. Peter remembered an intense chase down London's obscure alleys, bystanders chuckling slightly at the sight of the dog-and-rat chase.  
  
"Ain't the cat missin', Ma? Ain't the cat missin'?" one child repeated again and again. It was like the background noise of doom and terror to Peter, who only escaped Padfoot when crews from the dog pound showed up, and chaser became chasee.   
  
Then there was the warehouse in another section of the city. Remus had trailed him persistently until Wormtail found refuge behind bags of cement. Then -  
  
"Who're you, and what'll you be wanting here, running like the devil himself was after you," demanded the clerk, whose "you"s were very nearly "ye"s.  
  
"I'm looking for a rat," came Remus's unabashed answer.  
  
There had been a long silence. "Eh?" Remus had held firm and persuaded him to give him leave to let him search the warehouse. (This consent was revoked when the clerk observed him "sniffin' like a mad dog", much to Peter's relief.)  
  
The point was, they have proved many times that nothing was going to stop them. Peter was clever, but no enough to outmatch the two of them together. He couldn't keep this up for too long. The number of close calls already…  
  
Peter held his forehead in his hand. It hurt a lot.   
  
_One of the reasons you were so much more important to us than they were…  
  
I thought you had some sense, Mr. Pettigrew…_  
  
"I only pick on people I like, Wormtail."  
  
"Huhn. Then you must have a mad love affair with Snape."  
  
In the silence of the woods, Peter whispered to himself: "I thought I had more sense, too."   
  
Who knew what it meant. Peter was quite sure he didn't want to know. He didn't need to.   
  
_This is my friend, Peter Pettigrew…_ Casually. Easily. Assured.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
He needed someone else. Not the echoes of some dead wizard (whom he had killed, nonetheless). He needed Voldemort now more than ever. He needed those lessons on being a Death Eater…  
  
Before he turned back to the side of fools, the side with Padfoot and Moony.   
  
Mind made up, Peter transformed. He needed rest before he got the final goal, his master, because it was going to be a long journey.  
  
And sleep shut out doubt.  
  
*  
  
Three weeks after the night at Serendipity, a large, colourful toucan bird sailed gracefully through the window of a dingy inn of Romania, near the border of Albania. Remus Lupin watched it, bemused. Yes, he had sent _someone_ in the tropics a letter, but it was hard to imagine Sirius had sent a reply so quickly. Were toucans swifter than mere owls? Whatever they were, they certainly weren't inconspicuous. There was gasping and pointing from below his window.  
  
Remus ushered the handsome bird inside and cast a Memory Charm into the evening streets. The bird opened his large beak, offering a letter with a familiar round scrawl.   
  
_Dear Moony -  
  
I'm a git, I'm a terrible git. Are you happy at being right? You should be, because for once (okay, you are a lot, but let's not rub that in), you're right. Big-time right.   
  
I can't believe it took us five days to have a huge fight all over again. I can't believe what sort of frame of mind I was in then. May I take twelve years in Azkaban as an excuse? Looking back on that night, I'm not terribly coherent. I was still struggling for sanity. Moony, I'm sorry. First you practically save my life about six times in succession and then I tell you off.  
  
I've been here a while (hopefully you remember through our argument where "here" refers to) and I've regained sanity. I swear. Actually, it's sort of hard not to, here. It's such fun, really. Moony, if you ever visit "here" and start getting weird looks due to your ignorance, tell the natives you're a "British picture star". That exact wording works best. Works like, well, magic. Only make sure they don't think you're American, or you're just dead. (Is it a compliment to be mistaken for an American? Maybe Father's gotten to me too much; I don't think so. In any case, they certainly didn't intend it as one. All the old ladies behind the counters were chucking merchandise at me and yelling me from the shop.)   
  
I hope it doesn't sound like I'm using Azkaban as an excuse… but let's face it: I'm using Azkaban as an excuse. It took a long time to get a hold on myself. I wish I could have done it more quickly.   
  
James, for a long time, was very much alive to me, because I'd hallucinate or dream, and he had a way of getting into most of them. Hell, most were about him, period. I don't feel as if I can ever make it up to him; even when I get Wormtail and clear my name so I can provide for Harry, there's still going to be an empty void I can't fill. (Not to mention the fact that Harry's thirteen. Thirteen, Moony! In less than ten years, he's an adult. Did you hear him back in the Shrieking Shack? He's practically an adult already! He's more mature than I am!)  
  
I felt one more thing I could do to make up for what I did is to apologise to you. I really am sorry. If you're still reading by now I'm amazed.   
  
I was a stubborn headed hippogriff (meaning no offence to Buckbeak) about our fight for the longest time. Then I realised that the full moon is tonight. I never got around to asking, is the Wolfsbane Potion the same as some of those other said-miracles that Lola dreaded so much? Does it have the same effects after you stop taking it? I hope not. If so, I'll go after Snape with his own cauldron over the head. I wish I had time to find you and stay with you tonight. If you are reading this, apparently you're alive, which is a good sign. Even if you address it: "Hey, turkey!" please just let me know you're all right. (Don't mistake this for pity, which I know is the thing you hate most in the world. It's concern.)  
  
It's sort of weird how it's easier to say this stuff in a letter than in person. Did you feel those few days we were tracking Wormtail together that we had communication blocks? While we're on this tack, I want to also apologise for the toucan. I used the one owl I could get for Harry's letter; no offence, but due to the fight, he was a little higher on my correspondence list at the time than you were.  
  
In case I never get another chance to say this (and oh how much easier to write than to say face to face) I want to offer a decent apology also for what you have so long termed "The Prank". I am not sorry about that git Snape. I am sorry for dragging you in. Yeah, I said I was sorry before, but I don't think I meant it then. Everything post-Azkaban has a whole lot more meaning. Before, I just sort of wanted to be forgiven so I could move on with life. Now I need to be forgiven so I can live at all. And I especially need you. I've been in touch with Dumbledore and I wrote Harry, but you're my only friend left right now. And I do care about you, whatever my temperamental tongue might have indicated otherwise. I've hated to think of you alone for so many years, facing that pigheaded attitude people like our dear Minister (Moony, if you're willing to do me another favour, explain how Fudge got elected. Just how many strings were pulled for that?) have kept healthy.   
  
This place is pretty cool; has a lot of perks besides toucan birds. For one thing, there's sun. That's something you don't find a lot of in England or Ireland. For another, stealing is so much easier. Everyone's so relaxed. How come throughout Britain everyone's so paranoid? Was that just because of me, or have we just all become shoulder-checking freaks? Let me know, I want to get in on the trend.   
  
I know I'm asking a lot of favours, but now that we're not totally concentrated on Wormtail (and I sure as Morgana's wand would like to know how that's coming along if you've kept up on it) I want to know about Harry. Apart from the fact that he looks like James (but he's too thin) and has Lily's eyes and is mature and loyal and thorough and absolutely wonderful and also the best flyer of his age I've ever seen, I don't know a thing about him. What's he like, Moony? Is he in that state of total optimism like James, or mood-swingy like Lily, or just all a personality of his own? What does he do in his spare time? If he found five Galleons with obscure identification, what would he do? What subjects does he enjoy? What Quidditch team does he root for? What are his friends like? You know, the important stuff, not what I've found on Flitwick's file (which told me next to nothing, except that his Cheering Charms are a bit strong, which is about as useful as a Chocolate Frog in a hailstorm; of course, I've committed it to memory anyway).   
  
Again, I'm sorry for being a git. About Father, well, maybe you're right. Maybe. (I never really thought of him as human, so I'm out of perspective, perhaps.) What's he been doing the past twelve years? (Probably nothing. He's too lazy. Don't raise any eyebrows at me. It's the truth and you bloody well know it.)  
  
Another thing, scrap what I said about you sounding like your father. That was just… trust me, you couldn't be more different. I don't know if we ever discussed it, but I did see him before, at the Ministry cocktail party before Hogwarts that James and Sammy and I pulled the "we brewed a growing potion!" stunt (they fell for it, every one of them. It's a riot to remember!) I remember him and Chris meeting, and, well, you know Chris's temper better than I do. I thought the two were going to kill each other.   
  
I don't know why I didn't realise it before, but we really aren't kids anymore. I don't know when it hit me. It wasn't in prison; I don't think I thought too much of use then. I think it was the night in that Shrieking Shack that it hit me, in the midst of our reasoning with Harry and his friends. Possibly you've figured that out, but I didn't, and it was rather shocking when I did. I think it was somewhere along the line when I learned Wormtail was Ron's pet (I'd need therapy to cope with that. From what you know of him, how'll Ron handle it? Or am I just out of perspective again?)  
  
Again, sincere apologies. I know I have a temper. I know you've given me a lot of chances. Can I have one more to learn to control it?  
  
Your friend (hopefully),  
  
Padfoot  
_  
*  
  
The exact same day - even within the same hour - that the toucan flew into Moony's window, a small rusty owl (who, coincidentally, had crossed the toucan mid-air) swooped against brilliantly light blue skies. Scanning the ground below, he spotted his receiver and bolted down.   
  
Sirius Black, who had been roaming the more remote, less spectacular beaches so as to give Padfoot's paws a rest from their heavy use of late, snatched it. He realised he couldn't quite place the narrow writing for a moment. Was it Harry? No, it was - Remus. His writing had changed; still recognisable, Sirius would have known the distinctive capital "S" anywhere, but nevertheless startling. As startling as finding that Harry was no longer a baby; he was an able young teen able to roam the streets at night without whimpering.   
  
Still, Sirius frowned. How on earth had his letter reached Remus so quickly? It still should have only gotten perhaps to its destination, not there and back already. Was it some new charm that blocked post and automatically sent a rejection letter to certain people? Tensely, he slit open the letter. Slowly, a smile crept over his face.   
  
Padfoot and Moony were united again.  
  
_Dear Padfoot -  
  
If you're reading this, realised who it was from, and haven't immediately tossed it into the sea yet, I thank you. I know I was rude and short during our last meeting and want to apologise. I feel as if I must do it tonight, because there is the chance that I won't live through it; I think you know why. (If, perchance, you are not angry with me, I beg you not to go after Snape with a cauldron. I agreed to the Wolfsbane Potion to begin with, and if I had just swallowed my pride I could have gotten an antidote to reduce excess effects tonight. You'd think that after this past year I would have learned something about the merits of conquering pride.)  
  
Ever since I have learned of The Truth, I've spent every spare moment (and some that aren't) worrying for your safety. Lately I've also been running through our last meeting in my head over and over again, and have come to one conclusion: You're absolutely right; I've managed to become "cynical, cold, bossy, rude, and unfeeling".   
  
All I can say in that I am sincerely sorry for my words and actions during the days we tried to track Peter together. "Sorry" is a rather weak word for it, but it's about the best the English language provides.   
  
Somehow during that time I forgot that you have just spent over a decade in Azkaban; that it was amazing enough that you still functioned, let alone that you were recovering and gaining sanity so quickly. I forgot all this and expected you to be perfect, forgetting that you were still struggling every day.  
  
About Azkaban - again, I'm sorry. I keep feeling there's some way I should and could have prevented it, by seeing through Peter or not acting in ways that aroused suspicion. I have tried many times since that night to fathom the hell you must have endured and haven't managed it. You've always been one of the strongest people I've ever known, and this only goes further to prove it (not that it's needed to illustrate that).   
  
I'm also sorry for basically nebbing around where I didn't belong. Your relationship with your father is pretty much your relationship.   
  
While I am sorry for being a good bit bossy at this point, I cannot say with complete honesty that I take back what I said. Frankly, I've always held a livid hatred of your father. But I do think that like everyone else, he's a person with tangible emotions and desires. But this is not my place to say anything. I don't even think I thanked you for "rescuing" me in Diagon Alley, and I'll do it now: thank you.  
  
As for a good deal of the rest of what I've said, I realise that simply enough I've developed a self-centered view. Exemplified by lying to Dumbledore all year long (I suppose in retrospect I'm glad that I was a selfish spineless coward; who knows where you'd be now) and not being sensitive to your feelings lately. Having come to this realisation, I'm working to change it. In the past few weeks I haven't had a whole lot of success, but I'm only human mortal like anyone else. All I can do is keep trying, but I give you my word that I am trying. (If my word even means much to you any longer.)  
  
Your friendship has meant so much to me, Padfoot. Learning The Truth (I always see it just like that - capital letters and all) turned the world upside down for a moment, but while in disbelief at Peter, I was overjoyed to know it hadn't been you. I can't say it doesn't hurt that Peter was in the end the one who caused it all; but somehow, the idea that you, the one James trusted more than anyone (not to mention the one my parents loved best), are completely innocent overshadows it. I can't pretend that in '81 the roles were reversed, but there really didn't seem to be any bright spots whatsoever then.   
  
You said to Harry: "I as good as killed them." I wish you'd reconsider that. On the contrary, you did everything one person could possibly do to prevent James and Lily's death.   
  
Even if you throw away this note in disgust and never reply, which I wouldn't blame you for, I'm still constantly hoping that your name is soon cleared so you can return to a normal life and care for Harry. I've chronically regretted that I wasn't able to do anything to keep him from being sent to the Dursleys. It's obvious that Harry needs you a lot and already cares for you a great deal. (How very perceptive of him.)  
  
Hopefully you don't consider my closing ridiculous, and that you do forgive me. I promise to try harder to become a better one.  
  
Your friend,  
  
Moony  
  
P.S. By the way, you were wrong about it being "cold" in Albania.   
  
P.P.S. If the whole truth must be told…  
  
It's ten bloody times worse.   
  
****_  
The End   
  
  



End file.
